


Gross Indecency: An Otherworld Novel

by kpiet (Yventide), slarmstrong



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Cousin Incest, Fae & Fairies, Faeries - Freeform, Kink, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yventide/pseuds/kpiet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/slarmstrong/pseuds/slarmstrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Malachite, a battle-weary Sídhe prince of the Lunar Court, fell for Rime, a darkly seductive Solar Court satyr with a haunting gift for music, their love threw the Faerie Houses on both sides into an uproar. Forced to choose between love and obligation, Malachite turned his back on his family, preferring exile with Rime over his duty as a noble of the Aos Sí.</p><p>Now, banished from their homelands among the Fae Folk and forced to live among humans, Malachite and Rime must find a way to survive and succeed in the mortal realm with their fellow exiles. Hiding in plain sight, they put their otherworldly talents and charms to use in the most appropriate place possible: they start a small adult film company and begin producing porn. But work is only the beginning of this glimpse into their erotic and often kinky lives in modern day London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

_London, England, 2015_

Malachite stalked through the doorway, his face twisted with annoyance. "Tell me, once again, what the charge was... and why the hell I'm bothering to bail you out."

Rime smirked as he rose from his cot and pressed himself against the cold metal bars of his holding cell. Turning his head slightly, he drew his tongue up one of the polished bars and then blew against the spot. The same ice crystals of his namesake sprang up from the metal to meet his breath, but then quickly dissipated in the heat of the room. "Gross indecency. Apparently, it's illegal to give one of the Queen's guards a smashingly erotic blowjob while he's still on duty."

Suppressing a shudder--because how many times had he been on the receiving end of Rime's oral expertise?--Malachite continued to glare at Rime. "And you called _me_ why?" He hadn't seen his lover for almost two years due to an irreconcilable conflict of interest. Namely, that Rime couldn't seem to remember whose bed he was supposed to be in. "Whirlwind no longer taking your calls?"

"No," Rime said, and for a moment, he looked rather pathetic as he stared at Malachite. "I've been meaning to call you for weeks now. This was as good an excuse as any to call... to see you again." He paused, and a smile slowly curved his lips. "Besides, you always said you loved to see me locked up. I could hardly resist."

Malachite crossed his arms. "You couldn't call me until you wound up in jail. Mmm. I can see how difficult it must have been for you to pick up the phone before now."

"I'm sorry, Malachite," Rime murmured as he leaned his head against the bars. "I was an ass."

"Yes, you were," Malachite said, a sharp edge to his voice, though the harshness didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I've missed you. The flat has been desperately lonely since you left." Rime's ice blue eyes drank in the beautiful features he'd longed for every moment since Malachite had disappeared down the crowded street where they'd fought and parted.

Malachite looked away, lips tight. "You've missed me _so much_ you were arrested for blowing someone in public? Forgive me my scepticism."

"I was _desperate_! I'm a creature of love and lust!" Rime tightened his hands around the bars. "You haven't been here, and--"

"And I am supposed to believe in two years you haven't fucked anyone? That this was just a desperate moment of overwhelming loneliness?" Malachite's bitter laughter echoed in the room. "Give me more credit than that. I believe my brother called you the Whore of the Lunar Court for a reason."

Rime cringed. Only Malachite could make him ashamed of his past, and the words struck him to his core. Releasing the bars, he dejectedly sat on his cot. "I didn't. I didn't fuck anyone outside of work. That's all, whether you trust my word or not." It had been as hard as hell, too. Satyrs were meant for sex, and he'd been denying his very nature. More than once he'd thanked the Old Gods that Briar had roped them all into porn. Without that outlet, he'd have tipped over into true madness and gone on some sort of violent rampage.

Malachite watched Rime, silent and considering. Rime had never lied to him, and he had no cause to doubt his word now. He walked up to the bars, wrapped his fingers around the cold metal, and sighed. "A guard, Rime? Out of everyone in London, you had to choose one of Her Majesty's guards to break your dry spell?"

"You know how I enjoy certain thrills." Rime shrugged with a half-hearted chuckle. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it."

"There are a lot of things I've thoughts of!" Malachite threw his hands up in the air. "Like... stuffing peanut butter up your nose! I've thought about it, but I've certainly never done it!"

"Why not?" Rime teased, instinctive challenge lighting up his face.

Malachite's eyes narrowed. "Need I remind you of the eggnog experiment?"

"Gods, no!" Rime shuddered violently at the unpleasant memory.

Laughter erupted from Malachite's throat, the sound musical and warm after so many months of unhappiness and silence. He bent at the waist, remembering vividly the mess that romp had been. "The stench!"

"The sensation!" Rime countered, bursting into a fit of laughter, his voice harmonizing perfectly with Malachite's, as it always had.

Malachite leaned against the bars, gasping. "At least we discovered you _do_ possess a gag reflex." His laughter slowly died as he watched Rime, an occasional chuckle leaving his lips. "I missed you, too, you know," he finally admitted.

Sweeping his long, pastel blue hair away from his face, Rime stood and crossed over to Malachite, placing his hands over his lover's. "I often wondered."

Heat washed up Malachite's arms from where Rime's flesh touched his own. He wondered how he'd lived without Rime's presence for even a week. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the closeness, even through bars. "You know what you mean to me." That was all Malachite felt he needed to say. He'd been with no one but himself since walking away from Rime. Rime had been a constant thought plaguing him, driving him to tears some nights. Exile from Annwn had been bad enough, but losing his lover, too, had made the burden almost unbearable.

Rime reached through the bars and tenderly cupped Malachite's face. "Did you... take any others?"

Malachite's eyes fluttered open as he leaned into Rime's palm. "None. I only thought of you. Only wanted you."

"I lost count of the number of times I had to use my hand to ease the burn I felt for you."

Malachite moaned at the confession, the fire in his stormy gaze fanned into a raging blaze as arousal pooled in his groin. "Don't talk like that... not now..."

"It took _both_ hands, actually," Rime crooned, sliding his hand sensually down Malachite's neck and chest. Lower. And lower still, until his fingertips brushed against the bulge in Malachite's jeans.

Malachite's breath caught as he pressed against that hand. "Rime..." The image was vivid in his head: Rime arched, fingers buried in his own ass while his other hand stroked his cock furiously. The melodic, perfect cry of completion leaving Rime's lips as his seed spattered across his chest, his body slumping in the aftermath of a satisfying, intense climax. Malachite shook his head. "Not _here_!"

"Here," Rime breathed through the bars, hand squeezing expertly. " _Now_. I have ached for you long enough." Deft fingers quickly undid the button and zipper of Malachite's jeans, and as Rime's hand slid inside, he pulled Malachite into a frantic kiss between the bars.

Malachite whimpered as he opened his mouth wide, deepening their kiss instantly. This wasn't how he'd pictured their reunion, but with Rime's hand down his pants, he could barely think straight let alone argue. He reached between bars and tugged at the fastenings of Rime's leather trousers. As he shoved his hand in, stroking Rime's cock roughly, he pulled away from the kiss enough to speak. "Like this?" he panted, biting at Rime's lower lip.

Rime shivered, a harsh groan tumbling over his lips. "I want you in me," he panted, pumping Malachite's cock, squeezing a little harder. "Please, Malachite..."

Malachite matched Rime stroke for stroke, nuzzling under his jaw. "We don't have any--"

"I don't care!" Rime cried out. "We've done rougher things. I need you," he whispered, eyes shamelessly meeting Malachite's. "I don't want to wait."

An argument brewed on Malachite's lips, but he swallowed it back. Rime was desperate, and even though Malachite was still pissed as hell, he couldn't find it in him to say no. Not when he wanted it just as much. "You're such a slut for me," he muttered. "Turn around, pull down your pants, and bend over," he ordered as he yanked his hand from Rime's trousers.

The order was followed without hesitation. Rime was good at following orders. He'd have made a good warrior in the Lunar Court if he hadn't been so hellbent on disobedience. Rime followed orders, but only when it suited him. That was a habit not even Malachite had been able to rid him of.

Rime peeled the leather down, and then stepped out of one leg. With a slight shudder and needy moan, he turned and bent at his waist, the cold bars of the cell pressed against his pale, lightly flushed skin. It was quite a sight, and Malachite growled, his hands itching to leave Rime bruised, sore, and covered in his come.

Malachite knelt down and spread Rime wide, stabbing his tongue into Rime's hole without any warning. He spent as much time as he could bear slicking Rime with his mouth, but he wanted Rime, and Rime wanted him, and that want couldn't be reasoned with. Someone could walk in at any moment and call and end to this hasty reunion. Malachite stood, spat into his hand, and stroked himself, eyes on the tight opening, remembering how perfect it felt to be buried to the root in Rime's body. "You... should have called me... sooner," he snarled as he pushed into Rime, not pausing until he was completely surrounded. A ragged, lyrical cry floated up from Rime, and Malachite's hands tightened on Rime's hips. "Bloody hell, Rime," Malachite whispered, his sight darkening for a brief moment as Rime mercilessly squeezed around his cock.

A dizzying wave of pleasure and pain washed through Rime, and he cursed harshly beneath his breath as lights streaked across his vision. "Fuck!"

"I'm working on it," Malachite panted. He'd wanted their first time in so long to have been slow. He'd wanted to take his time reaming Rime properly, but circumstances and need forced his hand. He set an intense pace, swift and hard, holding onto the bars in order to increase his leverage. The friction was delightful, and Malachite closed his eyes, focusing on the tightness, the drag, and the simple emotional reconnection that flared between them.

With each powerful thrust, Rime lurched forward with a cry, his hair pooling on the floor. His grip on the bars kept him from falling over, and he pushed back as best he could. The pain was bright and searing, but his heart soared as he was quickly, forcefully pushed to the edge of his passion. He'd yearned for Malachite's touch; Malachite's presence brought him back to life, like a withering plant given the water and sunlight it needed to flourish. His voice rang off the stone walls of the cell, beautiful music of pleasure, pain, and desire that went far beyond the physical. It took only moments for his body to tighten with impending release. Rime cried out as he held himself back from the brink, unwilling to give in without Malachite's word. It was a game they'd often played, and he fell into it with unconscious abandon.

Malachite's hands gripped the bars until his knuckles were white. His rhythm faltered as he moaned long and low, the heat coiling tightly within him. Each sound he made wound around Rime's, creating a duet none could match. They were the greatest musicians of their kind, and even in frantic passion, their compositions were breathtaking. Malachite felt the tell-tale tingling in his gut, and he forced his eyes open so he could watch Rime's body. Long ago, he had decided there was no sight more stunning than Rime as he climaxed. Malachite hated that he couldn't see Rime's face or yank his hair or mark the flesh at his throat with teeth and lips. He wanted to _possess_ Rime, remind him to whom he belonged with pleasured pain, but the venue allowed for little more than the wanton, ruthless plundering of the graceful body before him.

"Rime," he whispered, the motion of his hips erratic. He knew when Rime balanced on the edge of orgasm; how many times had Malachite brought him to that precipice and left him there as a form of delicious torture? Rime's body told him everything: from the breathless cries that passed his lips to the uncontrollable clutching of the muscles around Malachite's shaft. "Rime," Malachite repeated, his voice taking on a desperate edge. "Come with me... now!"

The words set off an intense chain reaction in Rime, a response that had long ago been conditioned through excruciating repetition. His body shuddered violently as he finally reached his peak with a lyrical, sustained scream. His neck arched back sharply as white shocks of pleasure and pain flickered through him. His seed fell to the floor in thick ribbons, and he struggled to keep his hold on the bars as Malachite continued to pound into him.

Malachite had waited years to hear that sound again, and it was that very sound that shoved him into the mind-numbing realm of climax. Malachite wanted to have his arms around Rime, have his fingers dig into the pale, eager flesh of his lover's hips--he wanted to see Rime marked by his hands! The image of Rime's skin bearing his bruises made his climax that much more intense, and his shout was harsh, short-lived. He took solace in the fact that his seed now filled Rime, and that Rime would smell of him for days to come. With a weak moan, he rested heavily against the bars, remaining within Rime as he breathed harshly and regained his senses.

The feeling of possession that came with the simple wet heat spreading within him filled a void Rime knew only Malachite could fill. "Malachite..." The name was a panted prayer, a quiet plea for the intimacy they often shared after their more intense fucks. He reached up, his legs trembling as they were made to support his weight, and his fingers slowly met Malachite's on the bars. The slight shift in position caused a spark of pain to radiate from his ass, and he whimpered, his hand tightening unsteadily around Malachite's.

Malachite did not deny Rime what closeness they could achieve in a jail cell. He wanted it, too. He laced his fingers with Rime's and used his other hand to slowly pull his cock from Rime's body. He immediately missed that contact, being held so intimately, and he crouched down momentarily to press his lips to their entwined fingers. Rime would ache for days, and it left Malachite with a deep sense of satisfaction. "Face me," he said roughly.

Rime straightened with a whimper and a wince. He reveled in the burn that came with every movement as he stood and turned. A small smile curved his lips as he felt Malachite's seed immediately begin to trickle from his abused hole, streaking down his thighs.

Leaning in, Malachite gently kissed those smiling lips, the touch tender and slow. He rubbed at Rime's knuckles with his thumb, murmuring, "Your ass is mine, Rime. If you want me to stay, then, dammit, _respect_ that. I don't care if you take on all of Manchester United in one night, but when I say to check with me before doing it, I fucking _mean it_!"

Rime nodded, guilt a dark shadow across his face. "I'm yours. Only yours. I won't disrespect you like that again. I promise." Reaching through the bars, he cupped Malachite's face, his sky blue eyes filled with yearning. "I love you. Please, Malachite, come home." Rime found apologizing much easier than he expected, and he wondered why it had taken him this long to do it.

Malachite stared at Rime for a long time, his internal debate easily read in his eyes. But, Rime had apologized, and being apart from him made Malachite's heartache each and every hour of the day. He'd _missed_ Rime. Acutely. It had been like giving up his music all over again. With a slow nod, he said, "I will." He brushed his lips against Rime's again. "I love you, too. By the stars, Rime, I've missed your voice whispering those words to me."

Relief washed through Rime. "I love you, Malachite, more than anything," he whispered, leaning down a bit to tenderly kissed Malachite. A rush of come made its way down his legs as he shifted, and Rime smirked. "How long did you wait?"

Only Rime could bring a flush to Malachite's cheeks. "Three weeks of pure hell trying to prove to myself that the mere thought of you didn't turn me on."

Rime looked down for a moment, and his smirk softened into an almost shy smile. "I only lasted two hours," he murmured, "but I wasn't trying to prove anything. I was angry... and then I was inconsolable. And the times I actually touched another, I felt all the more miserable without you."

Malachite reached out with his mind, finding Rime's once more after having barred him from his own. _No one will ever be what I am to you. No one will ever satisfy you but me, Rime, and it is time you realised that._

The connection was intimate and nearly brought Rime to tears as it was re-established. His mindvoice was like the quiet crackling of crystals forming on stone as it wisped through Malachite's mind. _I realised that a millennium ago, when I held you in my arms, singing in the hopes that your soul would heed my call instead of surrendering to Death's._

_Yours is the only call I hear._ Malachite squeezed Rime's hand as he smiled at him, a shout from a guard telling them visitation was over. Malachite parted from Rime, tucking himself back into his jeans. As he zipped them closed, he gave Rime a wicked smile. "I'll see you next week during visitation. Try to keep yourself busy until then."

"You're _leaving_ me here?" Rime cried out, his eyes wide. "You can't leave me here! I'll be eaten alive!" When Malachite's smile broadened a bit, Rime interrupted the words he knew were on his lover's lips. "Rape is _not_ one of my kinks, Malachite!"

Malachite opened the door that led out into the main office of the small precinct. "Try basket weaving," he said with a laugh. "I hear it's a very soothing activity."

"Basket weaving?!" Rime's curses rang clearly through the holding cell as he called after Malachite's retreating back.

A dark smile curved Malachite's lips as he looked over his shoulder. "You're so good with your hands, darling." He slipped out the door, his laughter echoing beautifully behind him.

TBC...


	2. Chapter Two

_London, England, 2015_

Malachite unlocked the door to their flat and led Rime inside. Silence had settled between them upon the completion of Rime's release paperwork, and Malachite had no desire to remedy the discomfort he felt radiating from Rime. If Rime wished to speak, Malachite was certain wild horses couldn't keep the Satyr's trap shut.

He'd left Rime to stew for a few days, not that he'd had much of a choice. His choice, actually, had been to refuse to take Rime's calls from the jail cell. Instead, he'd allowed their voicemail to answer the frequent attempts. Another small punishment in a long line of small punishments he'd doled out over their separation. Malachite had not abandoned him, though. He'd hired the best solicitor money could buy, and the solicitor had managed to wrangle a magistrate to hear Rime's case quickly and rule for a hefty fine.

A fine Malachite had solemnly paid. Malachite doubted Rime appreciated any of it, as he'd never bothered to thank him in the past, and Malachite didn't expect a thank you now. He tossed his keys onto the hall table and kicked his boots off before unbuttoning his coat. His movements were stiff, his eyes forward, and his lips compressed in a thin line as he hung up his umbrella and coat before entering the kitchen.

Before he'd left to retrieve his unfaithful lover, Malachite had put on a pot of thick soup he'd found in the fridge—he assumed Cloud had been providing Rime with ready to heat meals. Around his ankles, two cats twined, meowing softly up at him. These were the two cats he'd brought with him from Italy when Rime had called, and so far, they'd not terrorized the three existing household cats.  
It was home.

It was good to _be_ home.

At least, it was as close to being home as was possible for any of the exiled Fae.

Despite the comfort of cats, familiar scents, and the carefully chosen furniture he'd picked out when they'd bought the place, anger still burned in his chest. Seething, simmering fury that had been eating away at him over the last two years of his life. He hadn't even been this furious over his expulsion from Annwn. Finally, Malachite looked over at Rime, who still stood just inside the living area, looking particularly pathetic and small. It was an odd look for Rime, and one Malachite didn't think he wore well, and he sighed. "Are you hungry?" he asked, voice clipped and eyes hooded.

"Yes," Rime nodded, brushing a strand of long, frosty blue hair behind his ear. It didn't escape his attention that Malachite had hot food waiting for him. It warmed his heart while making his guilt all the more acute. He took a few steps toward the kitchen after removing his slushy, mud-crusted boots in the foyer, and his feet were immediately accosted by two slim cats. He eyed them with amused confusion as he looked from them to Malachite. "New cats?"

"New to the flat, but not to me," Malachite said as he ladled out the soup into bowls. "Alessa and Fausto. I bought them when I bought my flat in Florence." He set the bowls on the bar, adding bread and butter to a plate, and then slid onto one of the high stools. "Sit and eat, Rime," he instructed, dipping a piece of bread into broth.

Rime did as he was told with conditioned ease. Malachite's orders were always followed in such a way: efficiently and without question. An awkward silence fell between them as they ate, and though Rime occasionally looked up at Malachite, Malachite never locked gazes with him. It was uncomfortable, and Rime was _never_ uncomfortable.

Malachite cleared away the dishes when they finished, washing and setting them in the drying rack. He wiped his hands, fed the cats, and then headed toward the bedroom. "I'm going to take a shower." He felt filthy after walking back to the flat. Damn English winters. Malachite paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at Rime, who still sat at the bar, eyes on the cats. "Are you coming?" The annoyed impatience was clear in his tone, his frown deepening a touch.

Blue eyes blinked a few times. "Would you like me to?" Rime asked with a note of hopeful hesitancy.

"When have I not?" It was their habit to bathe together, unless one had to get up much earlier than the other. "You smell of jail, and if you expect me to touch you at all tonight, then your ass had best be in that shower stall in five minutes." Malachite didn't stay to clarify any further. He walked through their bedroom, and then into the bathroom. Before stripping, Malachite turned on the myriad shower heads and let the room fill with steam.

Rime smiled to himself as he approached the bathroom, removing his clothing as he went. By time he stood in the doorway, he had stripped completely. The bathroom was opulent, an extravagant focal room of their flat constructed largely in sandy travertine tile. Their shower dominated the space, enclosed with plates of smooth glass and equipped with a varied array of shower heads. One wall was completely lined with mirrors, making the space seem even larger, though they were quickly fogging over with the steam. The air was thick with moisture, and Rime ached to let the hot water wash over him. Even a week in that damn holding cell had been too long.

Malachite was already in the shower when Rime stepped up to the glass door. Rime paused a moment, and then opened the shower and slipped inside. He moaned as he stepped into the streaming, almost scalding water. He couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that escaped him, and he placed a hand on Malachite's hip, leaning close to his lover's back. "I don't expect you to touch me tonight," Rime whispered into Malachite's ear, the words almost lost to the rush of water. "I don't deserve you."

"What is or isn't deserved won't be debated tonight," Malachite said, turning to face Rime. He'd always hated that Rime was even a fraction of an inch taller than himself. "You and I will be having a much different discussion." His voice carried a hint of cold malice to it, and something flickered in the stormy, gray eyes. "Wet yourself so I can clean you thoroughly."

The tone of Malachite's voice unsettled Rime. Though he wasn't frightened by what he heard, he knew instinctively that his time apart from Malachite, and his time in jail, was to be the least of his punishments. Rime doused himself with the hot water, knowing there was no escape from whatever penance Malachite demanded of him.

As soon as Rime stepped from the water, Malachite roughly handled him, facing Rime away from him. Within moments, thick suds bubbled in Rime's impossibly long hair, the white almost obscuring the gentle blue. The room was soon scented with spices, warm and soothing, unlike the hands that combed through Rime's hair. Malachite used a detachable head to rinse the hair, and then slicked it with conditioner. Rime's hair was a vanity they both indulged in, and even in his anger, Malachite didn't mistreat the cascade of summer sky he'd lovingly tended to for so many years.

Malachite had worded his order specifically, and he was pleased Rime followed it. He stood there, unmoving, as Malachite wove a wet braid of his hair so that it wouldn't tangle. When he was through, Malachite soaped up his hands. He used an abundance of soap, scrubbing Rime's back, arms, and chest, and then dropped to his knees to wash Rime's legs, front and back. He added more soap to his hands and, in a low, gruff voice, he said, "Bend over and spread your legs, hands on the seat, and don't move."

Without a word, Rime obeyed, turning to the side and bending over with his hands braced against one of the shower's stone seats. His breath had sped the moment Malachite's hands had touched his skin, and he closed his eyes as he bowed his head between his arms. There was tension, and it sang in the air between them, a melody Rime could easily hear in their breaths, their heartbeats.

Malachite soaped Rime's groin, his fingers tugging harshly at the hardening cock nestled there. Perhaps he spent longer than needed fondling and cleaning Rime's dick, and perhaps he didn't. His hand then moved to the soft, vulnerable sac beneath, pulling and scrubbing with hard fingers.

There was no mistaking Malachite's mood; it rang clear in his tone, his expression, and his touch.

His fingers drew up Rime's perineum, his touch slippery with soap, and with excruciating slowness, he circled the hole between Rime's ass cheeks. "Don't clench," he warned, and it was the only warning given before two soapy fingers slid ruthlessly into the confines of Rime's body.

Rime didn't clench as he was penetrated, just as ordered. Instead, he forced all his tension into his harsh breathing. In and out. In and out. He could endure. He _would_ endure. Whatever Malachite offered, he'd take. If this was the prelude... His fingers twitched against the stone, and he moaned as he held on as tightly as he could.

Malachite raised an eyebrow as he thrust his fingers in and out. Rime, throughout the years, had been a heavily used lover, and despite exercises meant to keep muscles toned, there was a certain looseness about his body. That looseness was distinctly different now. "Two years have done wonders for your ass," he muttered as he slid a third finger inside. A small smile twitched at his lips. "Should I use the enema?" he murmured, and the way he spoke said he would use it whether Rime agreed or not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Rime nodded with another moan as he was stretched wider. It was something Malachite did sometimes, both to clean out Rime's ass and, in cases like these, as a form of subtle humiliation. Rime had never particularly enjoyed the process or the sensation, but it was personal, something Malachite could use to his advantage. A few moments later, Rime felt the metallic nozzle of the enema shower attachment slip into his passage, and he was immediately flooded with barely warm water.

It took a count of ten. It was something they had worked out years and years ago. A count of ten meant Rime would be full enough to be uncomfortable, but not in pain. "Clench." As soon as Rime's muscles complied, Malachite withdrew the nozzle. "Go take care of it," Malachite said as he rinsed the metal head before returning it to its place. He heard Rime exit the shower stall, and while his lover dealt with the unpleasantries of the enema, Malachite set to quickly washing himself.

He heard Rime re-enter the shower, and Malachite eyed him. "Bend over once more." In silence, Rime bent, presenting his ass to Malachite again. Malachite used more soap, penetrating Rime with unrelenting fingers. When he was done, he rinsed Rime's backside, washed his own hands, and began to shut off the water. "Dry off, then go sit on the bed and wait for me," Malachite ordered without looking at Rime. "I'll join you in a moment."

There was little emotion, and even less affection, in Malachite's voice and manner, and it only served to unsettle Rime further. Arousal was unavoidable, but along with the joy Rime felt at having his lover back, he also felt a glimmer of anxiety that no other could inspire in him. This was no simple foul mood Malachite had developed due to work or the complexities of his family. The darkness Rime felt in Malachite's spirit was _his_ fault. He had been more than unfaithful, and he was about to reap what he'd sown two years ago.

Malachite entered the extravagant bedroom with its lush bed and went to one of three closets in the room. As his eyes roamed the many shelves and hooks, he spoke. "I think there is a discussion we have avoided having since that first Lughnasadh together. Maybe that's my fault, maybe it isn't, but the fact remains, the words need to be said. Finally." He chose his weapon and returned to the bed. "On your hands and knees, forehead pressed to the bed, ass high in the air."

Rime eyed the very thin, sturdy cane in Malachite's hand. A shiver ran the length of his spine as he moved into position, understanding the pain and pleasure he was about to receive. His body was eager to feel all that it had lacked over the last two years—he was very nearly crazed for it—but his mind was less sure. There would be pleasure, oh, yes, but this was ultimately a form of punishment. Malachite knew him far too well, knew that for a satyr, punishment had to be particularly garish if it was to penetrate past a spirit that reveled in excess to begin with. Only through such extremes could he hope to gain any wisdom or insight.

The cane moved lightly over Rime's rounded ass, the touch a gentle caress. "Do you know how much I love you?" he asked nonchalantly as he drew the cane back. "Do you even _care_?" The first strike of wood to flesh was firm, but not painful. Malachite had honed this skill of his with the rabidity of the fanatically devoted when he'd learned of Rime's preferences.

Rime's body shifted slightly with the blow, a quick sting sparking along his nerves. His heart ached at the questions; he knew Malachite wasn't asking rhetorically. Malachite actually expected an answer. "I know... and I care," he breathed.

"You have an odd manner of showing it," Malachite snapped, his wrist flicking swiftly, the cane falling perfectly across the skin where the first blow had been delivered.

Rime clenched his eyes shut as guilt rose in him again, choking all words that sat lodged in his throat. What _could_ he say?

Malachite began a languid pace that built in intensity, his strikes concentrating on the meaty portions of Rime's ass and thighs. "You _should_ feel guilty, and I won't grant you pardon from it. Not yet. I withheld my tongue when I loved you, and I withheld my tongue when you sought other lovers without me. I've withheld so much that I should have expressed. I withheld it because I was _afraid_. I'm quite tired of being afraid, and I've grown weary of indulging your every whim." His arm swung with more force as the anger roiled blackly within him. "But mark my words, Rime," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I am not weary of _you_."

The first moan escaped Rime's lips as the harsher blow sent a bright streak of pain through his senses. He could hear Malachite's mind humming loudly, and he knew through those wordless thoughts that blame was not placed solely upon either of them. It was a fact that soothed a bit of his unease as another blow sent him rocking forward, his forehead pressed into the mattress of their bed.

All sound ceased but wood against flesh and the pitiful, muffled cries from Rime. Malachite struck again and again until welts formed and sweat dripped down his face. He panted as he gazed at the pale bruises already forming on Rime's body. "I hate you," he hissed, hitting with renewed strength, the strikes echoing in the quiet room.

The phrase was familiar and carried more meaning than most could convey through those simple words. Malachite's anger was clear, but in that statement there was a deep, abiding love that accompanied the rage. It was that emotion that forced a loud, sobbing cry from Rime as the well-aimed blows hit the abused, welted flesh just below the swell of his backside. It might not all be his fault, but so much of the mess did lay at his oblivious feet.

A shudder ran down Malachite's spine at the cry. It was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever had the privilege to hear, and he'd heard many. Rime's buttocks were a mass of welts and bruises, the flesh tender and red, ready to split. He tossed the cane to the floor and walked to the side of the bed. "On the floor," he said, words breathless. "On your knees, hands laced behind your back!"

Rime obeyed shakily; the movement caused pain to ripple through him sharply, steal his breath away. His cock was hot and heavy between his legs as he pushed himself from the bed and dropped instantly to his knees. His fingers twined together behind his back, brushing occasionally against the angry, smarting flesh of his ass and thighs. Rime looked up at Malachite, his pale eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

The pain and regret, love and need Malachite saw in Rime's eyes was breathtaking. He couldn't stop himself, and he reached out to cup a flushed, damp cheek. His thumb rubbed along Rime's jaw, and then over his lips. "Open," he ordered, voice thick, and his own sex was erect and eager. "Open wide and relax your throat. This will be the first lesson of the night." Because there were several more to be learned before he offered Rime his release and forgiveness.

There wasn't a moment of hesitation as Rime opened his mouth, and, with a final swallow, released all tension from his throat. The gentle touch to his face was, in its own way, a reward, a gesture of love he treasured.

Malachite's thumb dipped into Rime's mouth, gliding over even teeth. "This is mine," he whispered, a fire blazing in his eyes as he held Rime's gaze. "No other will trespass between these lips unless I say they may." He took himself in hand and guided his sex into the hot mouth ready to accept him. His eyes fluttered as he pushed himself inside until lips surrounded the root of him, and he moaned loudly as Rime's wet warmth surround him once more. "No other," he hissed, hands cupping Rime's throat as he slowly withdrew until the head of his cock pulled at lush lips. He paused, and then plunged back in with another soft, musical cry.

Rime all but melted at Malachite's words, shuddering at the possession. He reveled in the utter domination that colored each word, each movement that pushed Malachite into the depths of his throat. It was a side of Malachite he'd never before seen in all their years together. There was an unwavering confidence that overcame Malachite as his pace increased, and Rime was helpless in its wake. His breath was short, and his jaw began to ache as he struggled to keep his eyes locked on Malachite's and ride the ebb and flow.

Malachite pushed Rime just beyond discomfort, until he knew Rime's jaw would still be smarting by the next night. A wet sound accompanied his withdrawal from Rime's mouth, and Malachite bent at the waist, capturing those slick lips with his own. He savagely kissed Rime, tongue plundering and claiming, the anger and hurt and absolute love he felt fed into the mating of lips, tongue, and teeth. He parted, eyes glittering, thumbs pressing on the pulse he felt hammering in Rime's throat. "To whom does this belong?"

"You." Rime trembled beneath Malachite's hands, forcing the words through his burning throat. "It's yours, Malachite."

"Good." Malachite gave a final squeeze to the pale throat. "On the bed, hands and knees, legs spread wide," he ordered as he righted himself. Malachite went to their bedside table and withdrew a bottle of lube. "I should fuck you until you're raw, and then leave you wanting," he muttered as he stared down at the bottle, his back to the bed.

Rime took several deep breaths, desperate to regain some semblance of control. Still shaking, and unbelievably aroused, he moved from the floor to the bed, wincing when he tried to swallow. He slowly positioned himself, spreading his legs a bit wider this time. He closed his eyes and prayed to the Old Gods that Malachite would take pity on him, not leaving him wanting. He hadn't been asked a question, and so he chose to remain silent, his lips numb and throat hot.

Malachite turned to Rime, his gray gaze dark. "You have so very little to say tonight, Rime. Usually, I can't shut you up even with my cock shoved down your throat." He mounted the bed behind Rime, dragging his nails across the welted, scarlet skin.

A tear fell from Rime's eyes as he screamed in a pain that transcended the physical. Still no question, and so he kept his silence.

Malachite poured the cold, viscous fluid down the crevice of Rime's backside, and then added a generous amount to his fingers. He pushed them into Rime, three fingers spreading Rime wide. "This is mine." He hooked his fingers and dragged them over the raised flesh within the passage, stroking mercilessly. "No other will trespass into this tightness unless I say they may." Malachite thrust in and out, rubbing that bump with unerring precision. "None, Rime, do you hear me!"

Each touch of those fingers inside caused Rime to cry out into the coverlet. Sparks of light threatened to overtake his vision, but he gripped the sheets and forced back the pleasure that would normally have sent him over the edge. Every movement acknowledged Malachite's words, and he pushed back hungrily against the slick digits.

Malachite tortured Rime in the sweetest, most heart-wrenching ways. He replaced fingers with cock, shouting a vulgarity to the ceiling. His fingers bruisingly gripped Rime's hips as he brutally took him with body and words. "Two years I fucking waited for you, and you couldn't bother to come after me until you _had_ to! Two years!" Tears hovered on his lashes, and the pain he had endured threatened to suffocate him. "Only when I could _do_ something for you did you even call! Nothing has changed... nothing will _ever_ change."

Rime sobbed as he was forcefully taken, something he hadn't experienced in what seemed like centuries. Every nerve was on fire, glowing red with pain, and he finally broke his silence. "I'm sorry," he whimpered pathetically, weeping into their sheets. "I should have... earlier... I'm so sorry..."

The pounding of flesh and the sound of sobs permeated the room, and Malachite clenched his eyes tightly against the pain he sensed from Rime. There were times when the mating bond complicated everything. When he could feel how distraught Rime was, it made holding onto his rage that much more difficult. " _Why_?" he demanded. It was the only question that had burned in his mind since the first week of their separation. "Dammit, why?"

"Shame!" Rime choked out. "Shame and arrogant pride!"

Malachite pulled out, shoved Rime onto his back, and then knelt between his legs. His face hovered above Rime's tear-stained one. His fingers delved back into the slippery passage, relentlessly working that bundle of nerves. He knew how much it had taken Rime to admit that, and while he wanted to acknowledge it, he refused. Rime deserved no relief from him. Not yet. "To whom does this belong?" he said, the words all but spat in Rime's face as he rammed his fingers into him.

"You!" Rime gasped. He ground his teeth together, his whole body tense as he tried so hard to keep himself from coming.

Leaving Rime's hole, Malachite traveled down his lover's body, lips hovering over the dark, engorged shaft resting unspent between tense thighs. "This is mine." He lapped at the fluid smeared on the tip and Rime's belly. "No other will trespass here unless I say they may." Malachite drew Rime into his mouth and slid down until his lips wrapped around the base of him. His touch now was gentler, kinder, though the unspoken command remained between them: Rime wasn't permitted his release until Malachite gave him permission.

Rime screamed Malachite's name as he writhed beneath him. The tenderness was a stark contrast to the pain and violence that had colored Malachite's actions all evening.

Malachite drew on him for several minutes, bringing pleasure where he'd only brought pain. His fingers caressed thighs, hips, and one teased the space between navel and groin. It was a unique aspect of his wild Satyr, an erotically hypersensitive patch of skin. Arousal settled insistently between Malachite's legs as Rime screamed for him again. He craved completion as much as he knew Rime did. He wanted to spend himself deep inside Rime, though, claim him as his all over again, but that would have to wait.

The lessons were not yet complete.

Malachite lifted his head, hand still stroking that patch of skin while the other fisted wet, hard flesh. "To whom does this belong?" Malachite asked, voice guttural and deep.

"You..." Rime whimpered, his breath catching each time Malachite's fingers brushed the skin of his abdomen. His whole body quivered with unspent need, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to stay his climax.

"Good." Malachite poured more lube into his palm and smeared it along Rime's cock. "There are only two more lessons for you to learn tonight," he murmured as he straddled Rime's waist. Gritting his teeth, Malachite sat back on the glistening shaft, shoving away the pain as he took himself without any fingering. "This... is yours..." he panted when his ass rested against Rime's thighs. "Look... look at me, Rime... this is yours..." Malachite clenched his muscles around Rime to emphasize his point, his hands splayed over Rime's stomach.

Rime's tear-lined eyes grew wide with shock and pleasure. Malachite didn't often offer this pleasure to him, and to feel it now, after so long apart and with such pain between them... He didn't know what to do with it. His shaking hands gripped Malachite's hips and held tightly as if Malachite were the only port in a raging storm. "Mal... achite... Ah!" Rime's toes curled as he tried to keep himself in check. The order hadn't been given... not yet. Not. Yet.

Malachite took one of Rime's hands from his hips and wrapped it around his cock. "This... is yours." Malachite leaned forward, lips near Rime's. "And this... is yours..." he breathed before taking Rime's mouth in a shattering kiss. His tongue swiped against Rime's briefly, and then he righted himself. "I am... yours. To whom do... you belong?" Malachite asked as he began to rise and fall on Rime's cock, encouraging Rime to stroke him in return.

Once he received his answer, that was.

"You! I belong... to you... only you!" Rime cried, his voice trembling with the strain. His grip on Malachite tightened, and he did his best to pump his cock despite the pressure building inside him. The friction of Malachite's body pushed him to the very edge of his sanity, and he was finally reduced to a sobbing mass of over-stimulated nerves. "Please... Malachite! Please!"

Malachite was so close, skating that vibrant brink of pleasure he'd denied himself all night. The brief reconnection in the jail cell was nothing compared to this. With amazing grace, Malachite dismounted Rime, and then rolled Rime onto his side and lifted his leg. "If we are to find release," he growled in Rime's ear while he pressed himself to Rime's hold, "then we will find it with my cock piercing you!" He thrust in and moaned, his eyes rolling up. "You are _mine_ , and don't ever forget that fact! Mine!" His hips snapped forward rapidly, his hand fisting Rime's shaft. With a heartbreaking sob, emotion overtook Malachite, and he bit deeply into the junction Rime's throat and shoulder. Tasting blood, he cried out to their bond, _Come, beloved!_ His body tightened, and his hand yanked forcefully at Rime's cock as orgasm washed through him like white fire, blazing and purifying. His seed pulsed into the clutching body, marked what Malachite claimed for his own while he wept softly against the bloodied throat.

It was with a shattering sound somewhere between a scream and a painful sob that Rime finally found his release. His vision was engulfed in brilliant light, his hearing consumed by the rush of his pulse. He arched against Malachite until the blinding moment of climax passed, leaving him limp and trembling in Malachite's arms.

Pounding hearts and rasping breath, broken by soft sounds of grief and relief, filled the space between them. Malachite clung to Rime, whispering over and over, "I love you. I've loved you for so long... Don't be with others without me, Rime. Work is one thing, but what you did... what you did was unforgivable..."

Rime's heart broke, and he turned just enough to bring his lips close to Malachite's. "I'm sorry. I love you... I'm sorry..." he sobbed before pressing an almost chaste kiss to Malachite's lips. His soul called to Malachite's, begging to be held, to be cherished again. Satyrs didn't take bondmates lightly. He'd gone against the advice of _everyone_ in his tribe who had warned him that bonding with one of the Aes Sídhe—especially one of _princes_ of the Lunar Court—was like gelding himself. The Aes Sídhe were possessive, needy, and bonding with one would slowly smother the Satyr's soul.

But that hadn't been what Rime had found with Malachite. He'd found his place at Malachite's side, and now, after two years of neglecting their bond, Rime _needed_ to feel it open up between them. He let the song of his spirit rise, become deafening, offering itself up to Malachite just as it had the night of their bonding.

Malachite's gold-tinged spirit immediately enveloped Rime's frosty one, soothing with unseen fingers as physical arms wrapped around him tightly. Their songs merged, became a duet that was as complete and as rich as any symphony. His mind wrapped around Rime's, whispering, _You are everything to me, Rime. For you, I forsook Death when all I had craved was peace. For you, I lived. For you, I live._ "You are forgiven," he whispered against swollen lips. "Lesson taught, lesson learned." His thumb and forefinger stroked Rime's right middle finger. "I want rings. I bound my spirit to yours, as is the way of our kind, and yet you never gave me a ring, never asked for one from me. I want one, even if those of this world won't understand its meaning... you and I will."

Rime's chin trembled, and he clenched his teeth as he turned in Malachite's arms. He hugged Malachite close as he sobbed into the crook of his neck. So many times Malachite had said he'd wanted nothing but the release of death, to follow his brothers through the cleansing fires to be reborn, forgiven, washed of all sins. To be the reason for Malachite's life was the greatest purpose Rime could ever have. It meant the world to him. Despite all the years spent together, he found himself falling in love with Malachite all over again in that moment. _I love you, Malachite. My bondmate, my world. You're everything to me._ He pulled back enough to look into Malachite's stormcloud eyes, and a small smile broke out on his flushed, wet face. "As soon as I can move, we can go ring shopping like humans do."

"Ring shopping?" Malachite chuckled. "After the fine I paid to haul your ass out of jail,  you'll be working overtime for Briar." Malachite slipped from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom.

The sound of Malachite's humor was like healing balm to a deep wound in Rime's soul. He remained on his side, chuckling softly to himself even though the subtle movements caused shocks of pain to shoot all along his body. Fuck, it had been a long time since he'd been so thoroughly punished and used. Even if he hated what had led to it, he reveled in the aftermath.

Malachite returned with washcloths, a jar of salve, a glass of water, and a bottle of aspirin. He gently cleaned come and lube from Rime's ass, and then wiped Rime's groin and belly. "If you want to shop for rings together, then shop for them we shall." He kissed Rime's shoulder, pressing a cool cloth to the angry bite on Rime's throat. "But I want platinum."

Rime hissed, smiling through the pain. "Anything you wish, Mal."

A sharp, herbal scent filled the room when Malachite opened the salve. A smile blossomed on his lips when Rime called him Mal. "Anything _we_ wish," he whispered, smearing the numbing ointment onto Rime's buttocks and thighs, working it in with tender fingers.

Rime whimpered. Malachite's care was something that still made Rime feel awed and utterly loved. Satyrs had a way of making bloodshed into art, and Rime had sacrificed his flesh to such games countless times. But no other had taken such loving care of him. It was one thing Rime had never taken for granted, even after more than seven hundred years at Malachite's side. "I love you, Mal."

"I love you, too," Malachite said, offering the glass of water and aspirin. "Take these, and then we'll go to sleep... next to one another." He'd craved that simple contact, the act of Rime lying in his arms as dreams claimed them. "I've missed holding you."

Rime swallowed the pills, and then he leaned over to place a kiss on Malachite's lips, caressing his cheek softly with his free hand. "I missed you every moment of every day. I missed singing with you."

Malachite took the glass from Rime, set it on the nightstand, and then turned out the light. The bed was welcoming, the sheets soft and smooth against his still-flushed body. Malachite tucked them both under the thick comforter and nuzzled Rime's cheek. "Is the lesson complete?" he asked, stroking Rime's hair. Before Rime could respond, the mattress sagged under a significant weight at their feet. Tûg purred loudly as he settled in the hollow of Malachite's legs, and soon, the other four cats joined the first on the bed. "How could you miss me when you had them?" Malachite snorted, pulling Rime close and holding him gently, ever aware of the welts striping Rime's body.

"None of them could ever replace you," Rime murmured, though there was a smile on his face as the cats surrounded them. "No one shall ever replace you, Mal. I won't fuck around without your permission, I promise." He closed his eyes, settling in Malachite's arms, feeling at home for the first time in too long. "The lesson is complete."

TBC...


	3. Chapter Three

_London, England, 2015_

Rime slowly walked down the aisles of the small market. It was a few blocks from the building that housed the flat he shared with Malachite, along with the flats of the other exiled Fae. It had been three days since he'd been released from jail. Three days of erotic pain and heartbreaking tenderness. Malachite had tended him in comfortable silence, though there was not a single moment in which Rime had not wordlessly expressed his joy through their bond. Rime's throat and jaw had finally recovered from their treatment that first night. His welts had healed, and his backside was still a little tender. He smiled to himself as he sorted through small baskets of imported berries.

A deep, amused chuckle sounded from behind him. "I see you've emerged," Whirlwind said, nosing the side of Rime's throat affectionately. "You are looking particularly well, old friend."

Rime's smile broadened and a happy sigh escaped his throat. His voice was soft and a little rough from lack of use. "I'm well," he confirmed, leaning back against the tall blond, "and well used. He's back. I couldn't ask for more." His hands continued sorting until he had a wide array of fruit in his selection tray.

Whirlwind slid his arms around Rime's waist. "Has he returned or is he merely visiting? Have you made peace with one another?"

"Aye, we have. He has returned... and forgiven me. There's a new side of Mal, demanding and self-assured, that I think he'd been afraid of showing before." Rime sighed thoughtfully. "I think many things are changing, and I find myself loving him all the more for coming back, for taking exactly what he wants from me." He laughed. "For having the nerve to _literally_ knock sense into me."

"He was afraid," Whirlwind said as they walked to the case of cheeses. "That was clear to the rest of us." He picked up a soft brie, staring at it with a slight frown. "Don't tell me you didn't know that. It was there to be read in his eyes every time they looked at you." He paused, and then added, "Which is quite often."

"I knew," Rime murmured, "and I _did_ try to remedy his fears at first, but after a couple hundred years, I gave up. There was little I could do, but I'd hoped _something_ would happen to bring about the change he needed." He added camembert and chimay trappiste to another basket, handing it to Whirlwind to carry. "Typical that such a change comes only when I fuck up. I think there's a pattern emerging." Chevre and chaource joined the other cheeses in the basket.

Whirlwind raised an elegant eyebrow. "Emerging? Rime, it's well-established." He looked over the contents of the two baskets and snorted. "Are you planning on hosting a gathering of some kind to welcome him home?"

Rime grinned. "A gathering for _two_ , with plenty more for seconds, thirds..." He winked. "You get the idea."

"Now you serve him?" Whirlwind asked. "Has the relationship changed that much? I'm not certain I'll become used to the idea of you scraping and bowing to please him."

Rime laughed, though the sound quickly became an uncomfortable cough. "Hardly! I'm just going to surprise him." He looked knowingly at Whirlwind, a pale eyebrow raised. "Honestly, Whirlwind. Don't you ever do anything nice for Cloud simply to make him happy?"

Whirlwind blinked as he stared at Rime. "I... no?"

Rising up on his toes, Rime pressed an affectionate kiss to Whirlwind's cheek. "Try it sometime, Whirlwind."

~~~

The flat was silent except for the soft ticking of a clock. On the oversized, wide sofa, Malachite lay on his side, eyes closed in sleep. The fat, ginger tabby, Tûg, was curled in the crook of his arm while Alessa and Fausto snuggled around his feet. The tiger tabby Rime insisted on naming Duncan kneaded Malachite's belly in his sleep, and his sister, Devon, had draped herself across her master's hip. It was a warm, peaceful sight, the noble Aes Sídhe protected by his loyal cats, and it was the first times in years Malachite slept without nightmares. His face lost its sharpness, centuries of regret and anger melting away. Malachite sighed softly as he shifted in his sleep, the cats instantly adjusting their positions to accommodate their master's movements, and then stillness settled over the room once more.

Rime entered the flat silently, reaching out with his mind to find Malachite's lulled quiet with sleep. The lights were turned low and, with the majority of the curtains pulled shut against the dreary chill of the afternoon, he knew Malachite wasn't up and about. Stopping in the kitchen, he plated the berries and cheeses he'd bought, letting the cheese sit out to warm up. Smiling at his handiwork, Rime fixed himself a cup of tea and padded into the main room, spotting Malachite on the sofa with their cats.

It was quite an endearing sight, Malachite surrounded by the five felines, and Rime sat in a chair opposite the sofa. His eyes took in the scene with adoration. Malachite looked at peace, comfortable in a way Rime had missed seeing. He sipped his cup of tea, watching his bondmate, and for long moments, his eyes wandered along the features he had so admired over the centuries. Each time one of the cats would shift, repositioning before purring against Malachite's relaxed body, Rime couldn't help but smile.

Through the haze of comfortable slumber, Malachite sensed Rime's gaze. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and then focused on Rime, though sleep continued to cloud the stormy depths. "There is room for one more," he murmured thickly, lifting his arm invitingly. _Come rest with your family. We've missed you._ He didn't ask where Rime had been, and he didn't worry about his brief absence. Malachite no longer had reason to fear when Rime disappeared, and there was great freedom in that knowledge.

Rime finished his cup of tea in one swallow, and then set it aside before he moved to the sofa. When Rime slid in next to Malachite, Tûg meowed sleepily, stretching before slowly walking around Rime and curling up at the small of his back. A loud, rolling purr floated up from the ginger tabby as he moved his head back and forth over the pastel curtain of his master's hair. Rime chuckled as he rested his head on Malachite's outstretched arm. _I missed you too, Mal._ "I love you," he whispered, giving Malachite's lips a brief kiss.

Malachite wrapped his free arm around Rime, his fingers brushing against Tûg's ears. "Love you, too," he breathed, dreams claiming him fully once more.

They slept for several hours, unmoving in the haze of late afternoon. It was pleasant and familiar, an indulgence they couldn't deny themselves. And why should they? It was Tûg who finally broke the stillness, stretching before hopping down from the couch in search of food. The loud thump on the wood floor signaled a shift in Rime's weight. He slumped closer to Malachite, and the soft nudge disturbed the rest of the cats, who soon followed Tûg's example.

Malachite's eyes gradually opened, and he smiled lazily. Rime's lips were too temptingly close for Malachite to resist. The kiss was gentle, a teasing of lips and tongue. His fingers trailed over Rime's waist, along his hip, and came to rest on the swell of his ass. He pressed himself even closer, lightly rubbing himself against Rime.

Rime's eyes remained closed as his tongue unconsciously responded to Malachite's in a series of small licks. He purred at their closeness, warmth seeping through every pore, even as he remained half asleep.

Malachite chuckled while his hand massaged a buttock, and he nipped playfully at Rime's lower lip. "You are such a cat," he whispered. "Should I pour you a bowl of cream and fetch the catnip?" The only response he received from Rime was a louder purr, and Malachite laughed. "I must find you ears and a tail, beloved, and perhaps a collar with a little bell."

He rolled Rime onto his back and settled above him, brushing away clinging strands of sky blue hair. "You... are so beautiful," he said, eyes searching Rime's face. Malachite thrust against Rime's groin and descended upon his neck, suckling at the pulse just under Rime's jaw.

A small gasp passed between Rime's lips, and he suddenly felt much more awake, shifting beneath Malachite as arousal coursed hotly through him. His hands smoothed up Malachite's arms, traveling up until his fingers caressed through midnight-and-blood hair, and then against delicately pointed ears. "Hungry?" he asked with a moan.

"Very," Malachite groaned, breath hot against Rime's throat. His hand slid between them and began to pull at the snaps of Rime's trousers.

Rime chuckled, his hand meeting Malachite's and stilling it half-heartedly. "Wait, Mal," he breathed with a brilliant smile. "I have a surprise for you."

Malachite's head drooped against Rime's shoulder as he sighed. "It had best be a new flavor of lube..."

"Don't sound so disappointed," Rime said, kissing Malachite briefly before wiggling out from under him. He rushed to the kitchen and reappeared an instant later, carrying the two platters of berries and cheese. Setting them on the coffee table, he smiled down at Malachite and pulling his shirt over his head.

"How can I not sound disappointed?" Malachite said into the sofa pillow. "I was looking forward to fucking you senseless, and then you tell me to wait." He sat up, gaze drawn to the table. His favorite cheeses were proudly displayed, along with his preferred berries. Malachite glanced from the table to Rime and back again. "Is... is this why you left this morning?"

Rime nodded. "Yes. We didn't have any of your favorites in the flat, so I had to go to the market." He leaned down, kissing Malachite again, unable to keep from Malachite's lips. "It’s not flavored lube, but you can still enjoy it and fuck me senseless in the process if you like."

A shudder ran down Malachite's spine, and his eyes darkened at the words murmured against his lips. From the images fluttering through Rime's mind, Malachite knew exactly what he meant. "Your trousers. Remove them," he ordered, his voice husky. "Then lay on the carpet on your back."

Grinning broadly, Rime stripped and took his position on the rug covering the floor next to the coffee table. His hair fanned up around his head, and he let his arms fall up, the fingers of one hand twirling a lock absently. _I have a feeling you're about to ravish me._

 _Thoroughly._ Malachite chose to begin with the brie, popping a small piece of the soft cheese into his mouth. His eyes raked over Rime's nude form, hungrily pausing at Rime's cock. He smirked, taking another piece of the cheese between his fingers. Biting his lip, Malachite smeared the ripe cheese from the base of Rime's cock to the tip. He sucked the remaining cheese from his fingers, and then chose a strawberry, quickly returning to Rime. "Shall I begin to dine upon my lovely lunch?" he asked, glittering gaze on Rime's cheese-smeared cock.

"Bon appétit," Rime breathed.

Malachite's mouth engulfed Rime's shaft, tongue swiping back and forth as he slowly lifted up. The sharp taste of the cheese mingled perfectly with the slight saltiness of Rime, and Malachite moaned as he let Rime slip from between his lips. "Delicious," he whispered, smiling wickedly as he bit into the plump berry.

Rime moaned as pleasure rippled through his senses. "I'm glad it pleases you," he said with a laugh.

Eying the other cheeses, Malachite made his choices, placing bits of cheese along Rime's body, from nipples to cock. With an evil smile, he swiped the clotted cream across the sensitive flesh between Rime's navel and groin, and then placed a blackberry in the indent of his belly. "A true feast," he admired. He held a raspberry out for Rime to clasp between his lips. "I think I'll start with a sweet kiss."

Rime took the berry between his lips, holding it lightly with his teeth. Malachite took Rime's mouth in a possessive kiss, trapping the berry between his tongue and Rime's teeth, bursting the fruit and sharing the tart juice. He lapped at Rime's raspberry flavored tongue, reluctant to part from Rime's mouth. _Perfect_ , his mind whispered to Rime's.

Rime forced himself to stay flat on the carpet so as not to disturb the numerous cheeses coating his torso. Cupping the back of Malachite's neck, he deepened their kiss. He adored the subtle taste of Malachite beneath the tang of the berry. It was intensely arousing, and he moaned wantonly into Malachite's mouth.

 _I've missed those notes._ Cries of pain had been the only music played for Malachite's ears since his return, and Malachite craved the beauty of their loving duets. Painfully erect, face flushed, Malachite left Rime's lips, capturing a chevre-coated nipple. He eagerly sucked at the flesh, teeth tugging and gently gnawing until he felt Rime’s pulse throb under the reddened skin. Only then did he abandon one nipple in favor of the other, tormenting it just as thoroughly, tasting the pleasant combination of cheese and Rime.

"Bloody hell, Mal!" Rime exclaimed, blood rushing in a pounding rhythm beneath his skin. His pale skin gained a rosy flush as the pleasure of Malachite's mouth wrung out a flurry of throaty sounds from him. Yet, through it all, a bright smile remained on his lips, and each sound was wrapped with joyful laughter.

Malachite worked his way down Rime's body, paying loving attention to each cheese-kissed plane of his lover's torso. He left passion marks over pale, flushed skin, and his need rose with each swipe of his tongue. By the time Malachite reached the clotted cream, his breath came in a staccato rhythm, and he took his time dragging his tongue through the buttery cream.

Rime's cry came out as more of a high-pitched whimper, and he squirmed. That spot! Such a weakness of his. Unable to keep his hands still, he reached for Malachite's scalp once again, his fingers teasing the points of Malachite's ears with pinching strokes and gentle twists.

"My meal... is distracting me," Malachite panted, trying desperately to ignore the insistent throb between his legs. He cleaned the cream from Rime's lower stomach, and then delved into his navel, sucking the berry from the indent and slicking it with his tongue. "I must remember to... bind my platter next time..."

"I can't help it!" Rime cried. His skin tingled with a pleasure that forced his back to arch, pushing his navel into Malachite's mouth. "Gods, you're so handsome... flushed, with... eyes like the stormy sky." He couldn't rip his eyes away from Malachite's; the gray depths seemed to pull at him.

Malachite's heart swelled, and he didn't look away from Rime's gaze as he licked up his shaft. The taste of Rime's early passions mixed with the sweet tasting cheese and enticed him to forgo extended foreplay and take him deep into his throat. Malachite's hair fell into his face, the gentle curls of his shoulder-length black and red hair obscuring his face, cutting him off from all stimuli but the hard, slippery shaft between his lips and the hands on his scalp.

Rime's fingers tightened in Malachite's hair as he gasped, releasing the harsh breath in a shaky moan. Malachite knew exactly how to bring him to unbelievable heights of pleasure, and Rime could do little more than squirm and whine as Malachite expertly worked his needy flesh. It took only moments for his voice to take on an urgent tremor. "Malachite..."

 _Come for me_ , Malachite whispered into Rime's fevered mind. _I want to taste you. I need to taste you!_ He sped his movements, his tongue pressing firmly, lips sealed slickly around the thick shaft. With amazing talent, Malachite took him again and again into his relaxed throat. It had been over two years since he'd last tasted Rime's climax, had drowned in the delightful bitterness of Rime's seed. Greedily, he milked Rime's sex, determined to have his throat flooded with Rime's passions.

Rime's reaction was immediate, and he cried out harshly as his climax ripped through him. His seed spilled deep in Malachite's throat, thick ribbons coating the mouth that continued to work him even after he collapsed against the floor with a thud. His hands fell away from Malachite's hair, and he trembled in the aftermath, gasping for breath.

Malachite savored every drop offered up to him, lips squeezing the final taste from the tip of Rime's cock before he finally released him. Arms braced on either side of Rime's hips, Malachite took in great gasping breaths, dark eyes focused entirely on Rime. He was achingly close to simply coming in his trousers. "Rime," he growled, starting to move up Rime's supine body.

Rime shuddered at the glorious sounds that vibrated from Malachite's throat, and the moment he could grasp him, he bucked and flipped their positions so Malachite was sprawled on his back. "Don't you _dare_ ," he panted, sensing how close Malachite was to release. "Not yet." Even as he made the demand, Rime shoved Malachite's sleeping trousers down his hips and, without preamble, swallowed him whole. With long-practiced movements, he clenched and sucked, rose and fell upon his mate in an unrelenting rhythm.

"Rime!" Malachite cried, his thigh muscles tensing as he thrust into the heat of Rime's mouth. "Rime... Ri— I'm clo—!" His head smacked the floor when his body convulsed, fingers tangled in Rime's hair. He held Rime in place over his groin while he trembled with release, his shouts of pleasure perfectly held notes that hovered in the air even as his lips fell silent. After a prolonged moment of tension, Malachite sank back into the plush rug, drawing deep breaths into his air-starved lungs. Too long... it had been too long since he'd been pleasured like that, and the sensitivity of his softening cock caused him to whimper each time Rime's tongue touched him.

It was perfect, a memory made manifest, and Rime shivered with a lyrical groan as he tasted his lover for the first time in two years. His ears took in every nuance of Malachite's pleasure, each note rolling through his mind like a beautiful symphony. He rolled Malachite's come over his tongue, relishing the bitter saltiness before swallowing. Malachite had always had a moonlit, slightly green undertone that lasted in Rime's senses long after his passion was spent. He'd always assumed it was the essence of the Lunar Fae. Rime lingered at Malachite's sex for several minutes, gently milking every drop from the pulsing, sensitive flesh. _You taste divine._

Words would not form on Malachite's tongue. Besides, thought was easier than speech. _You would know._ Malachite thought if any in all the worlds had supped at the cup of the divine, it would have been Rime, though he'd never ask. _Oh, I've missed that!_

 _Gods, so have I!_ Rime's mindvoice flowed soothingly through Malachite's mind, and he finally lifted off Malachite's soft cock. He sighed happily, nuzzling against Malachite's hip lovingly as his lips pressed soft kisses to a faded scar along Malachite's side.

Malachite sucked in a sharp breath, the flesh pricking where Rime's lips caressed. _We should take... every... opportunity to indulge, I believe._ His back arched slightly off the floor, encouraging Rime's exploration. _To the right, love, please..._ Malachite's voice in Rime's head was breathless, the golden shades deepening to liquid amber. _I think I crave seconds..._

TBC...


	4. Chapter Four

_London, England, 2016_

Slate arched under the man's hands, moaning loudly while a blond head bobbed up and down on his cock. A second man, this one with black hair, leaned in and took possession of Slate's lips, a passionate display made for the camera that zoomed in close. Malachite stood in the darkness near the back of the set, his arms crossed over his chest and his gray eyes intently focused on his brother. There was a slight frown on his lips as he watched the scene unfold, and he hated his body's reaction to what he witnessed.

Sex had become a necessary part of exiled Faes' lives. A perfect profession had risen with the tide of pornography, and Briar had been at the forefront of it all. He had built a small production company, hiring first his Fae friends and family, and then mortals. Briar and Falcon starred in many of the films themselves, a beautiful couple to watch, and Rime had eagerly jumped into the venture. It hadn't taken Malachite long to follow. Slate had joined them, bringing Vale with him, and after some pestering, Cloud had permitted Whirlwind to partake in the movies. Only recently had Whirlwind convinced Cloud to also become a part of the movie-making lot. All couples, all entwined through exile and trying to make it in the mortal world when they were all homesick for Annwn.

Across the set, just at the camera line, stood Vale, also watching Slate. Malachite had never been able to discern why, but Vale was often on set when Slate was filming without him. As far as Malachite knew, Vale did a lot of the technical work for Slate' shoots, from choosing who would be his partners to how the scene was lit to the music used. Vale, impressively, was completely dedicated to his lover, and there was a small flame of jealousy within Malachite whenever he thought about it. Vale had Slate. Utterly and absolutely.

Not that Malachite was unhappy with Rime. He loved Rime. He'd loved him since the moment he'd seen Rime first perform for his mother's court at Ráth Cruachan. A Satyr from the Solar Court performing for the queen, king, and princes of the Lunar Court had been a brazen sight. How long had that been now? Almost eight hundred years ago. Eight hundred years since they'd first fucked in an alcove off the feasting hall, and despite all the trials and tribulations they'd endured, Malachite regretted none of it.

But no regrets didn't mean there was no longing in his heart for other pleasures... other loves...

His eyes remained on Slate as Slate was directed to turn onto his hands and knees. Malachite's breath stopped as his brother was penetrated by the black-haired man's fingers. Slate' musical cry caressed ancient memories within Malachite, and fueled the passions held at bay in too tight trousers.

Rime had been watching Malachite closely for weeks now, his keen eyes picking up the nuances of light in his lover's eyes. There had always been a deep devotion between the brothers; Malachite worshiped Slate as a young child looked up to its greatest role model. It had never escaped Rime's attention, even back before words of love had been shared between Malachite and him.

It was only recently that Rime decided to truly observe Malachite during these habitual moments in the studio. The light in Malachite's eyes seemed to deepen as he watched Slate being touched and kissed by foreign mouths. His breathing always sped, and, though Rime was sure Malachite thought the movements hidden by his crossed arms, his hands clenched rhythmically whenever Slate was penetrated under the bright lights of the set. Malachite was aroused, and from his frown, he was very unhappy about it.

After weeks of watching Malachite in such a conflicted state, Rime chose his moment to act. He was as silent and graceful as a cat as he approached Malachite from behind. Reaching out, he encircled Malachite's waist. He rested his chin on Malachite's shoulder for a few moments, enduring the brief jolt of surprise before nuzzling at the skin beneath the dark curls at Malachite’s neck. Rime's eyes were drawn to Slate when Slate let out another moan for the camera's benefit.

 _You want him, don't you?_ His mindvoice was a trickle of cool water as it caressed Malachite's mind.

In darkness, Malachite felt himself flush with shame. _No. Of course not._ The lie to the gold-tinged words in Rime's head was plain to see. Lies between bondmates couldn't be hidden, no matter how desperately Malachite wished.

Rime smiled, though it was a small curve of his lips that held nothing but affection. Malachite's arousal flooded his mind, discrediting the denial and making his own pulse quicken. _Tell me what you want to do to him, Mal._ The tone of his mindvoice was simultaneously comforting and seductive.

Malachite swallowed thickly, cock pulsing hotly as Slate was finally penetrated by one of his partners' sexes. _Nothing._

His smile faltering a bit, Rime squeezed Malachite's waist, pulling him against his bare chest. _Don't be afraid... and stop lying to me._

Malachite's eyes fluttered, threatening to shut as he was pressed deliciously against Rime while Slate was taken both from before and behind. He remembered vividly the tightness of his brother's body, the sweetness of his mouth. _That part of my life is over. I have you now._

Things had been different before the treaties between the Lunar Court and Solar Court had been forged. It had been a time of war and blood, not a time for courting or marriage. And in those darkest, harshest times, it had been his own brother he'd turned to for pleasure and comfort. Not unheard of among their kind, but Slate had been in love with Vale, not him. When the torment of so many dead became too much and the loss of Vale had been too harsh, Slate had taken his own life, welcomed Death rather than remain with him. Malachite had been left behind, blood drenching his soul, and he'd fought through the stalemate as Annwn had been torn apart. It had been Herne who had brought an end to the war, his roots old and deep. He'd created the Fae Council, a body made of representatives from all realms and freeholds in Annwn. Once all had a voice in the ruling of Annwn, the war ended. The dead eventually returned, some reborn among the same kithfolk Family, some born to new kithfolk Families. Slate had been one of them, reborn to their very same mother, but not Malachite. No, Malachite endured, lonely in his survival. Even when a poisoned wound would have taken his life...

 _Aye, you do have me_ , came the response as Rime drew his tongue from Malachite's shoulder to his throat, _but you want him_.

Malachite shuddered as Rime's tongue trailed along his flesh. Silence fell between their minds as Slate' cries grew louder when his mouth wasn't filled. Malachite battled within himself for a long time as he watched Slate's pleasure captured by the camera. Finally, his mindvoice barely audible in Rime's head, Malachite admitted to his desire. _Yes... I do._

Knowing how much it took for Malachite to admit it, Rime nuzzled against his ear, lips and tongue brushing along the lobe and point. His eyes never left Slate, and he purred, the vibration traveling to Malachite. _He is beautiful_...

 _Beautiful as the rising sun_ , Malachite said without hesitation. Slate was dawn to Malachite as Rime was twilight. It had never escaped Malachite's notice how the two loves of his life were such opposites. Slate's eyes, full of laughter and shadows, had entranced Malachite since childhood. Tall, peach-skinned, and thick hair to his backside the color of a copper penny, Slate was stunning. Even at the heights of sweaty fucking, Slate possessed amazing grace and subtle agility Malachite appreciated and craved.

Rime's eyes fluttered as he saw Slate through Malachite's mind, and the metaphor made him smile. It was with a minstrel's eye that he took in the beauty of Medb's eldest son, and Malachite's description was simply flawless. _And what would you do with that sunrise? Caress those warm rays with your fingertips until they burn? Wind your hands in red silk and let the heat consume you? Tell me what you want to do to him, Mal._ He nosed Malachite's hair from his neck and began sucking, his hands moving slowly along the clothed planes of Malachite's chest.

Malachite couldn't contain the quiet moan as his head lolled to the side. His hands clenched at his sides, aching to touch his brother as he once had, and fire burned low in his gut, fanned by Rime's words. _I would press my lips to his navel as he arched under my touch. I would hear him sing while my fingers teased his nipples to hardness._ Malachite wet his lips, pushing back against Rime. _He sings wonderfully, love... when my tongue travels over his hip..._

A wave of desire rushed through Rime, and he hummed as his teeth tightened around skin, slowly raising a mark. Rime's eyes stayed locked on Slate as he was repositioned and took himself astride one of the mortal's hips, but his mind was awash in pleasure and desire not wholly his own. _And would your fingers stray lower... caress his thighs, parting them so you could settle between his legs? What would you do to make him ache for you? Tell me._ Scattered images came to mind, and he pressed his erection against Malachite's ass, grinding ever so slightly while his hands moved lower, reaching for the button and zipper of Malachite's trousers.

Biting harshly into his bottom lip, Malachite stifled all sound as his heart raced. Blood rushed in his ears, mingling with Slate' groans and sighs. Delicious pain radiated from the mark on his throat, and his body trembled when Rime thrust against him. Rime's arousal somehow soothed what shame remained within him. _I would tell him to clasp his hands together above his head... lift his legs and spread them wide. Bend them back as far as possible so his ass was elevated enough that I could lean down and drive my tongue into his body._ He'd done that very thing many times during their trysts, causing Slate to scream and his thighs to shake. _He would taste as heavenly as honey... his muscles quivering around me as I took him over and over with only my tongue... until he whispered... begged... tears on his lashes because he wanted me so much..._ He couldn't contain the whimper as the memory became acute and sensation washed over him. "Dáire," he breathed, Slate's old name a mixture of want and anguish.

Rime shuddered, pulsing in his loose trousers as he thrust steadily against Malachite. His hands finally slid into Malachite's unfastened pants, taking a firm hold of his burning cock and stroking in time with the thrusts that made Slate moan and rock forcefully backward. He worked Malachite's neck until the skin threatened to break, releasing the flesh with a low, musical sigh. He teased the red mark with teeth, tongue, and breath. _Gods, the two of you together..._ He licked his lips. _What pace would you set, sliding into the glorious heat of him? Tell me how you'd make him scream your name!_ His breath became erratic as his senses were overtaken by the blaze of Malachite's desire. Reaching down a little more, Rime massaged Malachite's sac, pushing him easily to the edge, but he withheld release as he waited for an answer.

It was heaven and hell, lost between mind and body, lover and brother. Malachite's breath hissed in and out. His hands gripped tightly to Rime's hips as his knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught. _I... gently at first... never would I wish to cause him pain... and when his body softened under me... ah!... swiftly... hard... his legs wrapped tightly so he could meet every movement of my body as we pounded our way to release... until he howled my name to the rafters!_ Rime's hand tightened on him, and Malachite was overtaken by his climax. In front of his eyes, Slate arched, spilling his seed just as Malachite did. Tightness, licking flames, pleasure that stole all thought from the logical mind. It didn't matter the fantasy of Slate brought him to smashing release... all that mattered was how much he loved Slate, how much joy they'd once brought each other, and how perfect it felt to whisper his name once more in the aftershocks of orgasm.

"Mal..." It took all Rime had to hold back his cry, resorting only to the whisper of Malachite's name as he thrust a final time and climaxed in his trousers. He held Malachite tightly to him, his mind reeling with visions of Malachite locked in furious passion with his copper-haired brother. Malachite loved Slate, wanted him, and the song that echoed in Rime's mind, spilling over from Malachite's, was pure and radiant and wrapped in so much complexity.

Rime's eyes rolled back as he tried to focus on keeping them both upright. When he managed to find his bearings again, he opened his eyes to see Vale watching them from across the set. It was clear from the look on Vale's face he knew precisely what they'd just done, but his gaze was strangely blank, giving nothing away. Rime held Vale's gaze for a several moments, wondering at that expression, what it hid from him. Then Malachite shifted against him, sending another wave of hypersensitive bliss through his body, and he buried his face in the crook of Malachite's neck and shoulder.

"Rime," Malachite whimpered. He wanted Rime to know it was _him_ he loved without fail... without end. Rime was his bondmate. On weak legs, Malachite turned in Rime's embrace, bringing Rime's seed-slicked hand up to his mouth. Gray eyes full of smoldering secrets kept hold of the icy gaze as his tongue snaked out. Gradually, Malachite cleaned Rime's hand of every drop of his come while his other hand cupped Rime's damp, tacky trousers. "You, lover, are wickedness personified," he panted, licking the last of his own seed from his lips.

Rime hissed as his groin was touched. The friction of his clammy leggings sent small sparks up his spine to join the heat filling him as he watched Malachite tend to his hand. "Gods, I love you, Mal," he breathed before bringing their lips together in a slow, deep kiss. His hands wove through thick waves of hair, every note within him singing his devotion to Malachite.

Malachite slid his tongue against Rime's, and his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He murmured into Rime's mind, _I want to go home. I want to fuck you until you can't sit for the rest of the week without remembering vividly how much I love you._

A throaty groan was lost in Malachite's mouth, and Rime deepened their kiss further, his eagerness clear. "How can I deny you your desires?" he asked breathlessly the moment his lips were released. "Besides," he added with a smirk, "it's been too long since I've earned a severe reprimand from Briar." Reaching down, Rime fastened Malachite's jeans and fussed with his shirt until he looked presentable again. "Come on, let's go."

Malachite held back, a slight frown on his face. "What about you?" he asked, nodding to Rime's current state of partial, messed dress, along with the distinct spot coloring the groin of his trousers.

"Leave it," Rime said with a smirk. "I'm shameless, remember?"

Another quick kiss, some good-natured laughter, and Malachite led Rime from the set, completely unaware of Vale's intent eyes on him.

TBC...


	5. Chapter Five

_London, England, 2016_

The stillness of the night was stifling and oppressive. It was unnaturally dark, and, even with the thick canopy blotting out what little light was reflected by the clouds high above in the midnight sky, Rime could tell the difference as he sat next to his lover's sickbed. He had not slept for days, and a small platter of food lay abandoned nearby, untouched. He was exhausted, and his fingers ached though he resolutely continued to pluck the strings of his harp. 

It all happened too quickly. In a sudden seizure, Malachite thrashed next to him, his arms flailing. At Rime's startled call, a healer appeared and shouted commands that were hastily followed. The silence of the night was broken as other healers came to their aid and worked to subdue the wounded, feverish Malachite. 

Then, in a startling moment, Malachite's struggling ceased completely, and he fell limp to the bed sheets. Sheets that were soaked with sweat and stained with blood that seeped from reopened wounds. The room was silent for an instant and all seemed to stand eerily still, but a heartbeat later, the clamor continued. Rime panicked, and arms pulled him away from the scene as he tried to push forward, his eyes locked on the deathly still face of his lover. 

No movement. 

No breath whispered between blue-tinted lips. 

No glimmer of gold on the edges of his consciousness. 

*** 

Rime screamed as he was pulled from his nightmare. A choked sob and his eyes flashed about erratically as he struggled against imaginary hands that still seemed to hold him captive. 

The shrill sound, disharmonious in the quiet of night, woke Malachite from a sound sleep. He blinked several times as he sat up, confused. "Rime?" he asked. 

His name, spoken by the one he'd just dreamed dead, startled Rime into a semi-coherent state. His eyes locked onto Malachite, alive and well, and tears immediately filled them. Disentangling himself from the sheets, he practically threw himself at Malachite, encircling Malachite's waist with trembling arms. "Don't go silent again," he begged, distraught. "Don't go silent and still. Don't leave me..." 

Malachite was shocked to stillness, but then he wrapped his arms tightly around Rime. "I won't," Malachite murmured, kissing Rime's damp face. "I promise. Never again." He had cut Rime from his mind and soul when he'd left, leaving Rime with nothing but silence and the vague knowledge that he existed... somewhere... but he'd ignored Rime. Blocked him from hearing the very song within him. "Never." 

Picking up an echo of Malachite's thoughts, Rime gripped more tightly. He tried to mend Malachite's misunderstanding of his tears with a shake of his head. "Visions... visions of death and silence in the dead of night. They tormented me whenever I closed my eyes, your death always so close... They couldn't save you. They pushed me away," he rambled, panic rising in him with the memories. "I called to you, but you didn't answer. Your voice was stolen from me. I couldn't save you!" Rime's mind skipped to their more recent separation, one he had caused and prolonged in his own foolishness. His tears intensified as staggering guilt settled in his gut. "And then I didn't call. I couldn't feel you, couldn't hear you. I could've lost you forever... then and now... Please, don't leave me in silence, Mal. I need you! I need you..." 

It was frightening, the discordant babbling from Rime. Malachite brushed his mind against Rime's, a warm, gold-tinged wind across a cracked, frozen lake, and he shifted their positions. He half-sprawled over Rime's form, giving what he thought his lover was asking for. Malachite suckled the underside of Rime's jaw as his hands began to wander over naked flesh. "I'm here," he whispered, words hot against damp skin. 

The warmth of Malachite's mind enfolded him, and Rime felt himself start to calm until the heated hands brushed along him with clear intent. Reaching down, he stilled Malachite's movements with shaking, but insistent fingers. "No," he protested, a startled look on his tear-stained face. "That isn't what I need. I don't want sex..." 

"You..." Malachite frowned as he stared down into Rime's face. "You said you needed me." What else could Rime have meant? The only other time he'd ever used that phrase with Malachite had been when desperate for touch. 

"I do," Rime said, frowning, "but that isn't what I meant. Your presence, your voice, your calm... I need you, Mal." 

"I was going to give you me... my presence, my voice... I never withhold those from you when we have sex," Malachite said, continuing to stroke Rime's hip. 

It was with a startling moment of clarity and dejection that Rime realized he'd brought them to this state, where sex defined their relationship. "You don't understand," he whispered, his eyes tearing up again. "Can't you just... be with me?" He wanted Malachite to hold him close, to brush his hair as he cried, to _comfort_ him. 

Realization dawned in Malachite's gray eyes. "Oh," he breathed. How long had he wanted to do such a thing? So many years... arms aching, heart aching. Gently, he lay beside Rime and drew him into his arms, against his body. He pressed a chaste, loving kiss to the distressed brow while one hand stroked the long, pastel hair they both loved so much. "I'll always be here," he swore breathlessly, and then he began to sing. Softly. Lowly. Malachite sang about the crashing sea covered in dense fog just before the stormy skies opened and added their tears to the salty ocean. It was a song he'd composed centuries before, standing lonely on a jutting cliff, desperate to feel whole. 

Rime broke down into a desperate fit of tears, burying his face in the crook of Malachite's shoulder. Never before had he appeared so vulnerable and raw in front of Malachite; he'd always restrained himself in the past. But the fright of losing Malachite, even in the realm of dreams, left him in need of the closeness he had so often kept at bay out of fear. Hearing Malachite's song in a way perhaps only he could—as a minstrel and as bondmate—he let his sorrow and fear flow from him. It was the sense of wholeness in the song that Rime so desperately yearned for, a unity he only felt in Malachite's arms, with his soul close. 

The promise given to Rime made his heart ache, and he gave himself up completely to Malachite's keeping. His tears continued for several minutes as he embraced Malachite, gradually tapering off into fragile silence broken only by deep, steadying breaths and the comforting notes of Malachite's song. His skin warmed beneath Malachite's touch, and his scalp tingled soothingly as his mind finally calmed. 

The final notes of the song drifted into the quiet air. Malachite continued to stroke Rime's hair and back long after the song was complete. He used the corner of the sheet to wipe Rime's cheeks and nose, his mind whispering to Rime's. _I love you._

_I love you_ , Rime thought back, and his mind was calm and affectionate, a placid lake after the upset of a raging torrent. He smiled softly as he opened his eyes, taking in every detail of Malachite's face. _I could never live without you... I need you. I've always needed you, Mal._

Malachite smiled, brushing his fingers lovingly down Rime's cheek. "You lived centuries without me, Rime," he pointed out. 

Lifting a hand, Rime mirrored the caress. "It was a hollow existence, filled with dreams and illusions, wisps of air and wide, empty spaces. Nothing more." 

Malachite stared unblinking at Rime, his eyes shimmering with rarely seen moisture. "And now?" Malachite asked, the words barely audible. 

"I live, made whole by you. My soul has been enriched and completed since it entwined with yours," Rime murmured. 

Malachite brought their lips together, kissing Rime with such tenderness, it made his own chest hurt. It was a thorough kiss, and while it was passionate, it wasn't sexual. It wasn't meant to arouse; it was meant to reaffirm. 

It was a touch Rime had never allowed any other... and only rarely shared with Malachite. He now berated himself for denying them both the comfort and love that could be found in such a simple caress. When their kiss ended, he stared at Malachite for long moments, strangely hesitant. 

A sweet, warm smile graced Malachite's face as he caressed Rime's. "What is it that sits on the tip of your tongue, hmm?" He felt the odd hesitance in Rime and found it endearing. 

"I..." Rime paused, and, as if that hadn’t been enough, a deep flush streaked across his cheeks. 

Malachite chuckled. "Now _that_ is unusual," he murmured, brushing his lips over Rime's blushing cheek. "I could count on one hand the number of times I've seen this shade upon your beautiful face." 

A smile twitched on Rime's lips, and the rosy hue darkened slightly. He shifted with uncertainty as he finally spoke the words poised on his tongue. "I want you to make love to me." 

Malachite regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "You just told me sex wasn't what you needed." 

"It isn't," Rime said. "It isn't the sex that I want, Mal; it's the closeness... the intimacy. It's something I've feared to share with you, though I've often craved it." His voice lowered until it was barely audible. "I want to have you close. I want to make love with you, not just have sex." 

Malachite blinked several times. "Just... just us?" he asked. "No restraints... or canes... or flavored lube?" 

Rime couldn't help but chuckle. "No... no flavored lube. Just us... the ordinary way." 

"The ordinary way," Malachite repeated. "You... you aren't teasing me, are you? I can't take that sort of teasing, Rime. I simply can't." 

Bringing both hands to Malachite's face, Rime kissed him just as tenderly as Malachite had kissed him. "I'm not teasing... not this time." 

Wonder filled Malachite, shared with Rime through their marriage bond. He'd never thought this moment would come, when Rime only wanted _him_ , with no trappings and no pain. He licked his lips, a touch of nervousness in his voice as he softly said, "Anything, Rime. I'll give you anything and everything within my power." 

"I don't need everything," Rime murmured, his lips brushing against Malachite's. "I simply need you and all your soul can give me which your body alone cannot." 

Malachite rolled over, pressing Rime into the softness of their bed. He settled comfortably atop him, fingers teasing Rime's shoulders and throat. "I'm yours." 

Rime let his hands wander along Malachite's sides and back, skimming over the planes as if for the first time. His touch was light and gentle, if a bit tentative. He'd never asked this of anyone, to handle him in the simplest of ways. Despite having been with Malachite for centuries, Rime felt a wave of near-childish excitement run through him. "I love you so much," he breathed. "I've longed for one in whom I could trust, who would hold me close in our passion and simply love me. A juvenile fantasy, I know, but you—" Rime's words were halted by Malachite's mouth covering his. 

After several heartbeats spent kissing, Malachite lifted his head and gazed down at Rime. "Enough words," he murmured. "Words muddle what body and soul clarify." Malachite bestowed feather-light touches with his lips over Rime's closed eyes, his cheeks, his chin. He traced the strong, pale jawline with his tongue, pausing to lavish the pulse points found on each side. His hands never ceased moving, his caresses gentle as the calloused fingers traveled hips and sides. 

Rime's pulse sped, and his body rapidly responded to Malachite's touch. It was astonishing to him how easily he could be roused by the smallest of Malachite's attentions. And yet, for the first time in centuries, he felt the slightest anxiety. It certainly wasn't the act itself that caused the feeling, but the finality that came along with it. With this act, Rime was giving himself _completely_ to his bondmate, knowing that, for the rest of eternity, he would belong to Malachite alone. It was the ultimate commitment. No more half-assing it, and he laughed with the relief and certainty that filled him. 

"Am I doing something that amuses you?" Malachite teased Rime's ear with hot breath and moist tongue. 

"No." A purr rumbled through Rime's chest. "I'm committing to you. Forever. I never knew I'd lied so badly." 

Malachite lifted his head, puzzled. "You married me, Rime. I thought that was the highest level of commitment." 

"Even bound Fae sometimes hold back," came the reply, accompanied by Rime's brilliant smile. 

Pain stabbed through Malachite at the admission. Yes, he'd known it. How could he not? But actually hearing Rime admit it tore through him, and he did his best to hide by dipping down to nip and suckle Rime's throat. 

The response startled Rime, and he immediately pulled Malachite up, looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Mal. That was thoughtless of me. I love you, and... I was afraid. I'm still afraid," he confided. 

Malachite searched Rime's eyes, seeking something in the old, ice blue gaze. "Why?" he dared to ask, the word barely a breath between them. 

"Because it means I'm truly happy. I've finally found all I'd searched for." 

Malachite's thumb rubbed at the skin beside Rime's eye. "You've finally found all you've searched for?" 

"No," Rime said resolutely as his smile slowly returned. "I've found all that and more... all I never _knew_ to search for." 

Malachite closed the distance between them again, kissing Rime deeply as he rocked against him. He spent an endless amount of time at Rime's mouth, taking and giving in turn, making the kisses last as long as possible. He kept sliding his body sensually over Rime's, hands cupping, massaging, touching. It was something he'd never permitted himself to do, touch and kiss and nothing more. It was heavenly—his greatest wish realized. 

Rime moaned and purred, melting beneath Malachite's weight. He didn't make a single move to hurry Malachite, and he didn't feel the slightest need to ask for more than was given. It was liberating in a very fundamental way, and unbelievably arousing. The simplicity of Malachite's kisses, the erotic slide of their bodies, sent his hands quivering as they touched and exploited Malachite's more sensitive spots. 

Lips stinging, Malachite slipped lower, tongue trailing over Rime's chin, along the front of his throat, pausing at the protrusion of his larynx. He wrapped his tongue around the bump, raked his teeth lightly, and suckled. Rime's throat was his absolute favorite place to torment, mark. Malachite savored the sounds, the vibrations, each one causing his own body to surge with desire. 

A lilting sound of pleasure vibrated through Rime. He slid one hand up into Malachite's hair, holding him close. His fingers combed through Malachite's loose curls, massaging scalp and caressing ears with small tremors. "Mal..." 

Malachite shuddered, his name whispered like that. "Rime," he breathed, leaving Rime's larynx behind in favor of kissing shoulders. He dragged his fingers over finely shaped collarbones, eyes glittering moments before his head descended to Rime's chest. Teeth and tongue drew nipples into tight peaks, and Malachite's hand eased between their bodies to ever so lightly scratch at the sensitive patch of skin on Rime's lower stomach. _You are my most magnificent instrument, the one I seek to master in all ways._

"Ah!" Rime arched beneath Malachite, a shock of pleasure traveling up his spine. Only Malachite knew how to work him, make him weak with want. Never had he loved another so completely. Never had he found another who inspired him as Malachite did with every word and gesture. His music had been enriched merely by Malachite's presence, from the notes of his violin and flutes, to the tone of his voice as he cried out in passion. It was as if a new movement had begun between them, one that outshone all that had come before it. 

Aroused and flushed, Malachite smiled. "Shall I take you into my mouth, love, or take your gorgeous body?" he asked, hand loosely fisted around Rime's cock. His heart ached with love for the precious being sprawled wantonly on the bed before him. Rime's thoughts filtered into his own mind. The cool breeze of Rime's spirit met and swirled around the fiery gold flame of his own, causing a furious storm that threatened to consume them both even before their bodies merged. 

Rime's hips automatically rose to meet Malachite's hand, and he didn't hesitate when given his choice. "Take me. Please, take me." He'd denied them both this level of intimacy for far too long, and Rime surprised himself with how desperately he wanted the closeness he'd all but forbidden them. 

Malachite nodded, kissing Rime deeply, swiftly, before crawling to the side of the bed to dig through the drawers there. It annoyed Malachite how many odd bottles of lube they owned, all the toys and devices. Finally, his fingers landed on a simple bottle of lube, and he grinned as he settled himself between Rime's thighs once more. Glancing from Rime's face to his groin and back again, Malachite shook his head. "No. This won't do." 

A small frown came over Rime's lips, but just when he was going to ask what was wrong, Malachite snatched one of the large pillows on their bed. Lifting his legs and backside effortlessly, Malachite propped him atop the pillow. Rime was silent for a few moments as he searched his memory, eventually laughing. "I... have never actually done this," he murmured, shifting into a comfortable position on the pillow. 

"Amazing," Malachite murmured, stretching out against Rime's body. He kissed Rime's lips, shoulders, and chest while his hands roamed creamy thighs. "Something you haven't done. I never thought I'd see the day, Rime." 

Rime fwapped Malachite's shoulder, unable to screw his face up into a convincing sneer. "Shut up! I like surprises." Leaning forward, he nuzzled Malachite's throat and jawline, nipping here and there. 

Malachite moaned, eyes fluttering closed. His body throbbed in time with his heart, and his pulse pounded in his throat. "Please," he whispered. "More." A simple word, a simple request. 

And it was with simple motions that Rime complied, peppering Malachite's throat with kisses and licks that slowly grew more passionate. One hand cradled Malachite's neck as he began sucking slowly at the flesh directly above Malachite's vocal chords. It was a favorite spot of his, one Rime had often enjoyed teasing and marking as his. Malachite had given up his music before Rime had rekindled it for him, and Malachite's voice—the flesh that housed it—was _his_ claim. 

"Ah," Malachite breathed, his head lolling back to expose himself more thoroughly. It was exquisite, and his heart raced. His throat, always so sensitive, was eagerly offered up to Rime. "If I asked you to mark me," he panted softly, "would you do it?" 

"Of course," Rime murmured against damp skin, his own breath quick. "Anything you wish." 

Malachite righted his head and licked at Rime's full lower lip. "Will you mark me?" he asked, eyes half-lidded and dark as smoke. 

"Yes," Rime purred, kissing Malachite's lips in a sweetly, almost chastely. With a single finger, he traced up Malachite's neck from the dip between his collarbones. The slow drag of his calloused fingertip guided Malachite's neck up and back, and he returned to the spot he most enjoyed. Rime suckled at the flesh, waiting until it grew hot before he increased the pressure. He drew out the process, stroking Malachite's hair and ears, taking time to fully enjoy every change in the skin he took between his teeth, and every glorious sound that vibrated beneath his lips. 

"Rime." The word rumbled up from the depths of Malachite's soul as moisture pooled in his eyes. He trembled, the slow building burn of the mark driving him to the edges of his self-restraint. Lightly—as much as he dared—Malachite rubbed against Rime, at home between Rime's legs, pressed close to his body. How he wanted Rime, _all_ of him. Forever. He would accept no less any longer, and he cried out lyrically when the bright, painful pleasure at his throat became nearly overwhelming. 

_Nothing less_ , Rime whispered into his mind. He took his mark just a bit further, knowing just how deeply Malachite wanted him to go. _You have all of me, Mal..._ all _of me..._ Each word was like a drop of refreshing dew, the purest of all Rime's spirit poured into the simple words. He lingered for several heartbeats before he released the bruised skin, soothing the bite with tongue, lips, and the gentle huffing of his warm breath. 

Malachite was almost limp above Rime, panting, his mind a muddled fog of love and desire. "I... fell so in love with you," he whispered, resting his brow against Rime's shoulder. "You... put your head in my lap... and I stroked your hair... and I fell in love..." 

Rime trembled, and his eyes filled with unexpected tears. Malachite hadn't told him when it'd happened, hadn't said a single word about love until Rime had figured it out himself following the battle and wound that should have cost Malachite his life. "I can't live... without you..." The scene of his nightmare seemed to flash back through his mind again, and his grip on Malachite tightened. "Please stay... forever..." 

"I promise," Malachite said, slowly sitting back onto his knees. He stared down at Rime, picking up the lube and flipping back the cap. "I swore forever to you, and that hasn't changed. I love you as much now as I did then, before my wounding... before exile." His slippery fingers carefully slid into Rime's hole, smearing the slick fluid deep into his body. Malachite then brushed his fingers over Rime's prostate, tormenting him sweetly. 

Rime moaned, the words burning themselves into his soul. His eyes squeezed shut, his body twitching with every caress of Malachite's fingers. His hands slid from Malachite's shoulders and down his chest. His fingers rubbed small circles around Malachite's nipples, pinching ever so slightly when the flesh pebbled. Malachite's moan wound through him, and he squirmed against the pillow, lashes heavy. His breath hitched as Malachite continued to stroke him from within, the touch somehow more intimate than ever before. Every touch built upon the one before it, and he grew desperate, pinching Malachite's nipples as a mewl worked its way out of him. 

"I want to possess you," Malachite said, sliding in a third finger. "I want to touch the very heart of your soul, Rime." 

"Yes," Rime moaned, welcoming Malachite into his body and, more importantly, into his soul. "Please... deeper..." Though his hips pressed up into Malachite, it was clear he meant far more than the physical sense. 

Malachite withdrew his fingers just as he reached out with his soul. Intangible fingers, magic as old as the world itself, ached to twine themselves with Rime's. "As deep as possible." He poured more of the clear fluid into his palm, and then stroked himself lazily, groaning. 

Blue eyes watched Malachite through a haze of desire. Rime writhed, trembling with need. Rime could _feel_ that magic reaching out to him, magic that wanted to bridge a gulf Rime had put between them. Centuries of calling himself bondmate all while he held himself back. For a brief moment, the scene seemed wonderfully surreal, and he shook his head. A smile lit up his face. "I need you, Mal..." 

The words riled Malachite, brought gruff growl from him. "I need you," he whispered, pressing himself to Rime's hole. "Never shut me out, Rime, never again drive me away." Malachite penetrated Rime in one exquisite, smooth thrust, joining their bodies just as his soul entwined itself with Rime's. It was as complete an embrace as could be given, and Malachite whimpered against the sweet-smelling flesh of Rime's throat. 

Rime forgot to breathe. His arms encircled Malachite's back, fingers twining in Malachite's hair as Rime pulled Malachite as close as possible. _Never again_ , he promised. Completely unguarded, with his thoughts flowing freely into Malachite's mind, Rime marveled that he'd found his perfect complement. The very song of soul his was forever changed the day he was waylaid under the blooming boughs of Mag Mell by Queen Medb's bard son. The refrain would never be the same again; he no longer sang alone. 

The rhythm Malachite set was painfully slow. He would pull out until only the very tip of his cock remained, spreading Rime's tight muscles, and then pause. Several kisses later, Malachite pushed back into Rime's clutching body, groaning into Rime's open mouth. The thoughts unconsciously shared were more arousing than their physical coupling, the closeness breathtaking. Memories flitted in and out of Malachite's mind with each thrust: their first tryst in the music tent on Lughnasadh; bringing Rime to climax with his mouth without thought of reciprocation; the pain of having to dole out tortures Rime demanded of him when all he wished for was tenderness; sobbing his love out to a rushing waterfall as Rime, under the water, swallowed him whole; death, cold and lonely, devoid of music, of color, of the one who made his heart beat and his soul sing. 

Though every nerve was alight with pleasure, Rime's mind was overrun by the memories Malachite shared. He'd never known of Malachite's burning desire for the ordinary; at least, that's what he'd told himself. The truth was, he'd seen the signs, he'd simply chosen to misread them. He'd refused to compromise. In the beginning, and so many years since, Rime had unwittingly disregarded Malachite's intrinsic needs. The knowledge brought bittersweet tears to his eyes. 

Malachite's memories made Rime feel all the more vulnerable; they made his love for Malachite sharpen until he thought it would pierce him in thousands of tiny pinpricks. A single moment stood out from the others as his mind raced. Rime had ensured the treaty between Ráth Cruachan and Tír na Sorcha had been signed, and, with Malachite poised to leave, he'd asked Malachite to stay, for no reason other than his own desire to have him close. Though seemingly small, it had been that moment in which Rime knew he wanted Malachite to stay with him... indefinitely. Even now, after nearly eight hundred years, the sentiment was the same. He wanted Malachite close; he _needed_ Malachite close. Heart aching, he clung to his bondmate as they moved in tandem. 

_I couldn't have told you the truth then_ , Malachite's mind whispered into Rime's. _You would have cast me aside, fled Tír na Sorcha_. Foresight had made Rime's request all the more poignant to him. Malachite had known his own death loomed like black clouds. He'd woken Rime in the dead of night, taken him as sweetly as Rime had ever allowed. He'd told Rime to remember that moment, remember it when Whirlwind told him that, with his dying breath, he was sorry. Malachite threw his head back as he delved deeper into Rime's body, their souls' songs merging into one harmonious chord. _I wanted to experience as much of you as I could before I died, Rime, and that would've been denied me if I'd confessed myself at the waterfall._

_I was a fool!_ Rime sobbed, pressing his face against Malachite's shoulder. _I'm a fool still... but I love you. By the gods, I love you, Mal._ He pulled Malachite into a kiss, passionate and tender, his tongue sliding perfectly against Malachite's. 

Muscles began to strain from prolonged use, their lovemaking having devoured almost an hour's time. Malachite refused to cease kissing Rime, hanging onto their merged spirits while his body repeatedly breached Rime's. Death had almost stolen him from Rime, and when he'd been given the choice, he'd chosen life. He'd chosen Rime. The beautiful, icy-eyed minstrel who had lived since the beginning... whose voice could bring him to such heights of pleasure or depths of despair. The choice had been the simplest of his entire existence, and never had he regretted it. 

Malachite's breath trembled between kisses, a shiver running the length of his spine, his sac so tight. "Rime," he moaned, the mark on his throat burning when he spoke Rime's name. He was terribly close... all he could see was a waterfall made gold in the dying light of day, its music clear, carried on the cool breeze to his ears. "Rime." 

"Malachite..." came the whispered response, drenched in joy and need. Rime's body tightened as his entire being was swept up by the crescendo of the music that rang in his ears and danced on the tip of his tongue. With a sudden cry, he gave voice to his ecstasy, shattering all remaining barriers between himself and Malachite as Song overtook him in frightening clarity. The Song that held all of Creation together, that bound their very souls together. He could hear it all, from the smallest chord to the World Harmony itself. It was there for them... all for _them_. 

Rime's pleasure pulled Malachite along, and his climax consuming him as he heard the World Harmony, too. Malachite's eyes remained open and unseeing as his mind was overtaken by the melting of icy walls. He gasped, so immersed in Rime's spirit, he wondered where he stopped and Rime began. Gold entwined perfectly with sapphire, and honeyed-dawn broke through the frozen landscape of the bond they shared. It was the most beautiful feeling Malachite had ever felt, like a great symphony finally given the ending notes to complete itself. His body spent itself within Rime, and his soul knitted itself completely with Rime's. When that blinding moment of absolute belonging passed, and the consummation of their songs thrummed contentedly, Malachite looked down at Rime, seeing him as if for the first time. 

Quiet sobs were all Rime could manage as he collapsed beneath Malachite, raw and yet whole, stripped to his core and remade anew. His bond to Malachite seemed to blaze in streams of gilded music, tangible in the way their hearts kept tempo with one another. Only this time, unlike all times before, they didn't seem to separate into individual beats again, but remained in flawless tandem. No fear remained. They were bondmates. Rime trembled, his limbs heavy as they clung to Malachite, unwilling or unable to let him go. 

Malachite kissed wet cheeks and soothed with rough fingertips. "I love you," he whispered like a mantra. "I'll never leave, Rime, I swear. Never again. Never will I go still and silent. Death will never have me. How can they when you do? My Soulsong is your Soulsong, and ever will they be entwined. Eternity, Rime... eternity." He remained inside Rime, basking in the physical closeness and the emotional intimacy, reluctant to part, afraid this moment would be taken from him as if it had all been some cruel joke. 

Rime's heart melted completely at the vows, true promises that would never be broken. Tempering his joy was Malachite's fear, however. It filled him as if his own, and he had to swallow a few times before words could pass between his dry lips. "I love you, Malachite, and I shall for all time. Never would I lie to you in such a way. I swear it." 

"I..." Malachite closed his eyes, unable to meet Rime's gaze. "I can't go back to how we were, Rime. I can't be like that again. Not after tasting _this_ with you. Not after knowing _you_." 

"You won't have to. We'll never go back." 

Gray eyes met pale blue. "You've never desired such constant closeness," he breathed, his softening cock slipping from the wetness of Rime's hole. 

"I desire it now, with you, forever," Rime said whispered, brushing a wavy strand of red-tinged hair away from Malachites's gaze. He'd been afraid of commitment for so long, but now the fear had been removed. His place was beside Malachite, be it in Annwn or exiled in Daear. It didn't matter, not anymore. 

Malachite eased himself from atop Rime, pulling Rime off the pillow and against his body. He laced their fingers together, rubbing the palm of Rime's hand with his thumb. "I've wanted this since I woke from that coma," he murmured. 

Rime winced at the memory; the anguish and uncertainty he'd felt knowing Death could've claimed Malachite at any moment. It had been unbearable. He squeezed Malachite's hand and gazed at him solemnly. "You deserved to have it then, and all the moments since." 

Looking away from Rime, Malachite sighed as he remembered that place between life and death. "He gave me a choice. I... I remember there being so much pain, and then... nothing." His voice was soft, almost breathless as he relived that moment. "It was cold... so cold... and he stood in front of an enormous throne made of bone. I didn't need to ask him where I was. I was dead." He licked his lips, shaking his head slightly. "He told me no, I wasn't. Not yet. I had a choice to make." A shuddering breath left him. "'Choose,' he said. 'Life, and all the disappointments and guilt you currently endure as well as all that is yet to come, or me, where there is silence and redemption, healing and freedom.' It was so tempting, Rime... that silence. So tempting. The cold didn't matter so much any longer, and that silence... like a tomb. I knew if I remained, I would find the forgiveness I'd never find if I returned." 

Rime's heart ached, his eyes filling with tears. Malachite had never described the experience that had sent him into Death's realm and back again. It had been clear Malachite _had_ died for a moment. A question burned within Rime, and though he knew Malachite heard it in his mind, he still gave it voice. "Why? After all I'd put you through, why did you come back?" 

A serene smile graced Malachite lips. "Because I loved you. I told him to send me back. 'There will be pain,' he said. 'I know,' I replied. 'Even if he won't love me, I love him, and I can't leave him. Who will understand his music if I'm not there?' Death smiled, I think... as close to a smile as he can come. ''Tis a good choice, Sin, son of Medb.' He let me go. I woke briefly, with a dozen healers surrounding me, my wounds reopened, and you calling my name... and when I heard your voice, just before I slipped back into the darkness, I knew I'd chosen correctly." 

Rime's response immediate and vehement: he buried himself in Malachite's arms with a strangled sob. Malachite had _chosen_ him. Over the peace of death he'd longed for the majority of his life, Malachite had chosen _him_. Time lost its meaning as he sobbed in his Malachite's arms, no words profound enough to express his love and gratitude. There were no words, only the music of their Soulsongs, and it was enough.


	6. Chapter Six

_London, England, 2016_

Malachite had put the cats away in the spare bedroom. He didn't want them underfoot. On the coffee table, under a bright, scarlet cloth, were the toys he'd spent weeks procuring. He'd gone so far as enlist Cloud's embarrassed help. Malachite lay sprawled over one of the chairs in the main room of their flat, dressed in only the smoky black boxer shorts Rime had bought him last Yule. The fabric shimmered in the low lights, and his gray gaze was trained on the door. Rime was due home any moment now. He'd been called to a meeting with Briar and Falcon, a meeting Malachite had orchestrated. He sipped the ruby liquid in his wine glass, a small, satisfied smirk on his lips.

His bondmate wasn't the only devious Fae in this flat.

Rime was annoyed by the time he finally stumbled into the flat. "Gods," he grumbled as soon as he closed the door behind him. "I've never been subjected to a more worthless meeting in my life! I never knew Briar and Falcon could talk in such inane circles. What they had to say, they could've told me over the phone instead of dragging my ass all the way down to—" He stopped short when his eyes rose, taking in the scene before him with his scarf half unraveled from around his throat. He stood there, gawking, for a moment before regaining his senses. Licking his lips, he finished removing his scarf and hung it on a peg near the doorway. His eyes never left Malachite's breathtaking form that smouldered in the dim light of the room. "Malachite?"  
Malachite pointed at Rime's trousers. "Undress. Now."

Curiosity lit Rime's eyes as he did as he was told. He removed his coat and shirt first, and it was less than a minute before he stood nude at the doorway, unashamed of his semi-aroused state. Whatever Malachite had in store for him, he knew he'd love. Malachite knew his very soul; there was nothing hidden between them, not even their intimate desires.  
"Already you hunger for me," Malachite mused. He nodded to the floor. "I'd like you to crawl to my side. Gracefully. Sensually, as I know you can."

Rime smiled. "All right," he said, the two words of assent nearly a purr as he crouched down onto his hands and knees. His progress across the floor was slow, meandering. His limbs moved with a sensuality he'd both been born with and developed into a finely tuned form of seduction. His icy eyes glimmered as he stalked toward Malachite, offering Malachite various views of his body as he made his way closer and closer, until he reached the spot indicated by a small gesture of Malachite's hand.

"So beautiful," Malachite breathed, his eyes bright. He reached out, petting Rime's hair in languid strokes, just like how he petted their cats. "The most beautiful creature the gods ever created... you rival even Fódla, kitten." The final word is spoken with a sharper tone, emphasis placed upon it in subtle warning.

Rime easily detected the nuance, and he merely smiled adoringly at Malachite. The hand in his hair woke a purr in his chest, rumbling through him, and he suddenly realized how apt Malachite's label was for him.

"I have a gift for you," Malachite murmured. "In fact, I have three." He rose from the chair in a fluid motion, hand going under the red cloth and withdrawing a slender piece of ice blue leather with a simple silver tag and a small bell attached to the ring in front. Malachite knelt before Rime, sliding the cool, supple leather around Rime's throat, buckling it with sure fingers. "A pretty collar for a pretty kitty," he murmured.

Rime lifted one hand to his throat, fingers trailing along the leather. He grinned at the small jingling noises the bell and tag made. His eyes lit with excitement and surprise. What else had Malachite hidden under the red piece of fabric? As Malachite's hand drew away from his neck, he leaned forward, nudging the skin in a distinctly feline manner.

Malachite smiled, pleased, and stroked Rime's cheek before the hand returned to the cloth. Out he drew a cloth-covered band with baby blue enameled clips, and perched atop the band were pale blue, furry ears with pink interiors. They were perfectly proportioned for Rime's head, and Malachite carefully nestled them in the pastel hair. He ensured the clips on the band wouldn't shift, no matter how vigorously Rime moved. Arousal simmered in his blood during this new ritual, creating a part-Satyr, part-cat out of his lover. "Now, I want you to turn around, kitten, and raise your backside high into the air," he whispered.

Rime complied immediately, brushing the length of his body against Malachite's leg as he turned. It was the perfect imitation of a cat, his spine bending flexibly until his backside slid against the skin of Malachite's shin. Taking a few graceful movements away from Malachite's chair, he stretched himself forward, his arms reaching in front of him as he presented his ass to Malachite. A shiver of anticipation ran the length of his body, and he forced the small sound of pleasure that escaped him to come out as a soft meow. This was a new side of Malachite, a softer kinky side Rime rather liked.

Malachite's fingers, slick with lube, eased into Rime's ass. He smeared the fluid deeply, smirking. And just to be a prick, he curved his fingers and rubbed over Rime's prostate. "I want to be certain you're enjoying yourself, lover."

Rime couldn't contain his desperate moan, though he tried to make it sound as feline as possible. His back arched, causing the bell on his collar to jingle, and he loved it. Loved every second. He pressed back against Malachite's hand and purred as he clenched around Malachite's fingers. Arousal pulsed hotly through him, his cock already beginning to drip with anticipation.  
"Good kitty," Malachite praised. "Now, let's see if we can't complete your transformation." He took the final item from under the cloth and generously lubricated it. Gently, slowly, he pressed the phallus into Rime, the toy flaring broadly before it came in narrowly in order stay seated in the body. He allowed the long, fluffy, sky-blue tail to fall along Rime's skin.  
Rime's breath sped as he was filled with the slick plug, the broad portion of the phallus large enough to leave him feeling wonderfully full. Rime unevenly purred as he trembled, the transformation erotic and unexpected. Absently, he kneaded at their rug, hips shifting ever so slightly, and it forced the plug—and thus, his tail—to move, too. Rime mewled, needy and hard. His only regret was that he couldn't make the tail move beyond swinging back and forth with his movements.

Chuckling, Malachite pushed a little switch on the phallus—added by Cloud—and the tail began to twitch rhythmically as it vibrated within Rime. "There we go," Malachite cooed. "Every kitten's tail should swish."

A strangled sound left Rime's throat before he could stop it, his eyes wide as waves of pleasure radiated from his ass. A shudder ran through him—from head to toe—making his collar sound softly. He turned wide eyes to Malachite, another mewled moan building in his throat as the tail vibrated relentlessly inside him. By the Old Gods, this was torture! Delicious, wicked torture!

Malachite stood and walked to the fridge, returning a moment later with a bowl of cold sweet cream. He placed the bowl next to the table and fell lithely back into his chair. A devilish smirk curved his lips, and his stormy eyes sparkled. "Drink your cream."

Eying the bowl of cream with dilated eyes, Rime purred at the treat he was given. Positioning himself in a way that put as little pressure on his oscillating tail as possible, he pulled aside his hair and dipped down to lap at the thick, milky surface. His hands continued to knead at the floor as he drank, eyes closed but for the occasional upward glance at Malachite. Each swallow made his collar sound, and he did his best to transform his quiet moans into more feline equivalents. But it was hard... so very hard when all he wanted was for Malachite to hump him.

Hungry eyes watched Rime. Every movement of the pink tongue into the cream caused Malachite's breath to hitch. A damp patch developed quickly on his silk boxers, his desire mounting as he gazed at his lovely, sensual bondmate. "Does it feel good, kitten?" he whispered. "Do you like your tail?"

Shivering, Rime lifted his mouth from the bowl of cream, capturing a bit of the milky rivulet that dripped from his chin with the back of his hand. Sitting as delicately as he could, he made a distinct sound somewhere between a moan and a meow, licking the back of his hand as if grooming his face after a meal. After a moment, he crawled forward toward Malachite, still graceful, if a bit slow. He nuzzled Malachite's knee as well as one of his hands, nudging him with his nose. Darting out his tongue, he began to lick Malachite's fingers delicately, pausing every so often when he couldn't contain another desperate sound. It was maddening, the way the phallus moved inside him. But, it was also new and perfect. At their age, new was a novelty. He submitted to Malachite's will with every breath, and every purring lick Malachite's hand was a plea for _more_.

Malachite threaded his fingers into the pastel hair over Rime's shoulder, his eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. "Perhaps that cream is not to your liking?"

Rime lifted his head, bright eyes shining up at Malachite. His desire was clear to be read on his face and heard in the soft mewl that lilted from him. He shifted his head further forward, nudging along Malachite's inner thigh with his nose, lips, and chin.

"How can I deny such a pretty kitty?" Malachite breathed. He hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxers and slid them down and off. He spread his legs wantonly, and Rime settled between them. "Just your tongue," he warned as his cock pulsed against his lower stomach, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.

After drinking in the sight of Malachite's rather impressive cock, Rime craned his neck forward. Pressing his face close against the flesh of Malachite's sac, he made his first lick. He lapped broadly, dragging his tongue slowly across the skin, tasting small smears of Malachite's pre-come. Rime delighted in the knowledge that their play excited Malachite so much. It roused a well of devotion in him as he continued his task, licking several more times before letting his tongue glide up the hot shaft of Malachite's cock.

Malachite gasped and used his hand to force his cock to stand tall, offered up eagerly to Rime's tongue. He hadn't expected the game to be so arousing, but his blood boiled, pounded in his ears and groin. "Clench your ass every time you lick up," Malachite panted. "Release when you reach the head, and do it again when you start over."

Rime followed the directions without hesitation, clenching as he rose to lick the underside of Malachite's shaft. The wicked vibrations of the tail made him breathe heavier and shift impatiently. Releasing the tension in his body caused every muscle to quiver, and he whimpered as he repeated the action. Malachite knew just how to torment him, and Rime loved him all the more for it. His climax within reach, Rime forced himself back a few times from the brink, his face an open book and his desire clearly written. He then began to knead Malachite's thighs, the touch of their flesh anchoring him in his submission.

No matter how many times Rime licked him, Malachite's climax remained just out of reach. Finally, he took himself in hand and started stroking, his palm gliding up and down his slippery flesh. "Almost, kitten," he hissed, eyes heavy-lidded. The moment he felt the tingle low in his gut, he groaned, "Quickly... the tip... lick until I come... so close..."

Moaning wildly, Rime flicked his tongue quickly, hungry licks he delivered over and over. He wanted Malachite's come. By the stars, his mind was consumed with the thought of lapping every drop, devouring Malachite's come and flooding his senses with Malachite's scent and flavor. He forgot about mewling, about meowing, and simply whimpered, breathless and determined as his eyes darted up to glance at Malachite.

"Kitten—" Malachite choked out, his muscles contracting almost painfully. He shuddered on the chair, come spilling thickly down the twitching column of his sex. He kept his eyes focused on Rime and gasped with each swipe of Rime's tongue against the hypersensitive flesh.

Rime diligently licked Malachite's cock clean, allowing the seed to coat his tongue and throat as he swallowed after every few licks. His lips and chin were soon coated as well, but Rime didn't stop until every smear and ribbon of come had been consumed. His eyes were dark, dazed with the thick haze of his arousal, and he nuzzled Malachite's cock as it softened. His own cock demanded attention, his tail still vibrating inside, driving him absolutely mad. Would Malachite reward him... or merely let him stew in the throbbing need? Either option appealed to Rime, each holding its own treasure chest of pleasure.

Taking several deep breaths, Malachite stroked Rime's hair with unsteady fingers. "Shall we... go nap... kitten?" he asked, a lazy, sated smile on his lips as he gazed down at Rime.

A desperate sound, close to a yowl, was ripped from Rime's throat at the idea. If given the choice, the treasure chest he would choose was immediate gratification! His hips made slow thrusts against the empty air as his body begged for release. Ultimately, it was Malachite's choice, but damn, he hoped that choice led to his amazing orgasm in the next few moments.  
Malachite laughed, the sound rich and musical. "All right, kitten. Lay on your back and I will stroke your belly."

Following the command without a second thought, Rime released a strangled cry when more pressure was put on the toy still pulsating in his ass. His hands and feet clenched and curled with the effort to not spend himself. If he came before Malachite gave the word, there would be a world of consequences he didn't want to face over the next fortnight.

"Such an impatient kitten," Malachite chided. "I should force you to sleep at the foot of the bed for two hours and see if that would aid in your patience." But he wasn't cruel. Not like that. Malachite slipped his hand under Rime's straining prick, fingers petting and rubbing at the sensitive patch of flesh on Rime's lower belly. It was all he offered, but he knew it would be enough. He leaned down, his nails scratching mercilessly, and whispered against Rime's sweet mouth, "Come for me, kitten, loudly."

Rime's abdomen convulsed with each touch of Malachite's fingers, and he screamed as his release ripped through him with startling severity. His back arched off the floor, each blinding wave of climax made all the more intense by the continued vibration of the phallus. Several yowls followed his initial cry as he came all over himself, the experience drawn out painfully until he could do little more than collapse into a shaking mass, sobbing with the ferocity of it all.

"Shh, love," Malachite soothed. He reached between Rime's legs and switched the tail off. "Take a deep breath," he ordered, and when Rime complied, he continued, "exhale." On the exhale, Malachite slipped the phallus from Rime's body, setting it back on the table. With the most intrusive prop removed, Malachite took his time lapping at the cooling seed glistening on Rime's stomach and chest. "Such... a good... kitten..." he murmured between licks, until his lips hovered over Rime's.

Rime still shook with the remnants of his pleasure, but he managed to purr loudly as he was so lovingly cleaned. His mouth already open as he panted, he extended his tongue toward Malachite's mouth.

Malachite gave in to Rime's unspoken request and possessively took his mouth in a deep, sweeping kiss. As his tongue delved into the recesses of Rime's mouth, his hands opened the clips and removed the ears. His fingers then moved to the buckle of the collar at the back of Rime's throat.

Shaky fingers reached up, clasped Malachite's hands. With a brilliant smile, he laced his fingers with Malachite's. "Leave it," he breathed.

Laughter bubbled up in Malachite. "As you wish, kitten," he murmured, kissing Rime once more. "I think a nap is called for, hmm?" He effortlessly lifted Rime into his arms, cradling him close to his body, and started toward their bedroom. "Even if we don't sleep..." he growled, eyes dancing.

Nails kneading at Malachite's shoulder, Rime whimpered in Malachite's arms. He smiled as they passed the closed door of the spare bedroom where the cats all clamored to be let out. He offered Malachite his sweetest of feline looks, persuasive and endearing, as he gave a little lick to Malachite's lips.

Malachite rolled his eyes. "Very well." He paused long enough to let Rime open the door, and the five cats raced out, all honing in on the partially consumed bowl of cream. "Greedy kitties." Malachite snorted as he carried Rime into their room. "All six of you."


End file.
